Ngl, it's been quite a ride on this platform with both this blog and the previous one I had to nuke.
If some would have told me I'd find an interest in writing stories back in 2019 when I became active here, I would have never believed it.
Now, it's been over a year since I've written anything, and as many ideas I have trapped in my mind, I've no motivation to type any of it out and/or share it with anyone.
I've struggled before with creating and wanting to share, so this isn't new by any means. I'm also not looking for any pity likes or comments on this. I'm just putting this here since (almost) no one on here interacts with me anymore, and I can get it off my mind.
Feeling that I had to delete my original blog to keep my own peace and not be harassed by selfish and quite frankly unhinged people within certain fandom spaces made me feel sick and also angry because it was made out to be that I wasn't doing enough to stand up for people when I've never gotten that level of support back when I needed it from the same people.
And though it's been a while now since that happened, I think it's important to do some self reflection and really think about how it got to the point that people don't really interact with me anymore and if I should maybe just deactivate this blog and delete my discord (which I also had to scrap and make anew because of drama that wasn't mine.)
Then again, I'm just talking to myself here anyway, so it's not like it really matters..lol
Idk, I'm just feeling some kind of way ig about how things have shifted here and how I'm just not sure about talking to people on here anymore due to past experiences.
This was a nonsensical ramble lol but I've never really said much about how poorly I've been treated by a select few I foolishly thought cared about me.
Now, I can't help worrying in the back of mind that no one cares about me, even though I know that is not the case.
Sad that this is probably a common tale..
Ps I am aware I am not perfect. I know people had my old blog blocked for reasons I am unaware of, which is fine. I'm not for everyone. Nobody is.
Again, no sympathy (real or otherwise) is needed here. Just getting my feelings out on this comatose blog that not even I can be bothered to care about.
Summary: On holiday with your sorority, you get lost in the winter woods after escaping your cabin-bound friends. You resign yourself to the cold until a very charming Park Ranger rescues you.
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: getting lost in the snow; cold exposure; implied risk of hypothermia; flirty!Bucky; protective!Bucky
Author’s Note: Here’s the actual fic for today! This was so much fun to write and bring alive, and I love you for sending in this delightful request, my sweetheart! I sure love me some flirty and protective Bucky. I hope you do, too ♡
WWC Masterlist | Masterlist
You have given up.
Aimlessly wandering around in the snow without a sense of direction would only make things worse.
So you lie there in all this whiteness, flattened like a surrender flag, arms and legs splayed wide in a snow angel that’s given up on itself just as thoroughly as you have.
Winter presses its cold breath against your neck. Your eyelashes feel frosted shut. The sky is turning the kind of blue that warns you shouldn’t still be out here, but you’ve reached the point where panic has dissolved into a strange, floaty resignation. You imagine your sorority sisters noticing your long absence eventually, preferably before you become some local cryptid whispered about on campfire stories.
Though that would still be a little iconic, honestly.
You inhale a breath of winter so crisp it tastes like a broken sugar glass. Exhale a foggy sigh that melts into the dusky air. You watch it spiral upward. Above you, the clouds in between the snow-crowned trees, sag like heavy curtains ready to fall, and the forest hums a low hymn — branches tittering, wind crooning, the complaint of a bird who’s also reconsidering its life choices out here.
You shift a little in your snow angel, snow sneaking down your collar like a mischievous toddler. It feels like you’re going to get frostbite on your ribs.
There is a crunch.
A footstep.
Another step. Another.
It snags your pulse. You don’t sit up. You don’t open your eyes. If it’s a bear, you’d prefer to die lying down, face relaxed, looking vaguely majestic.
Footsteps crunch closer — quick, driven, unhesitating. Definitely not a bear. Bears don’t move like they have a schedule.
A shadow drapes over you.
“Interesting tactic,” a deep voice remarks, all smoky and winter-warm. He sounds amused like someone who’s been witness to enough wilderness mischief to develop a sense of humor about it. “Most people try stayin’ upright when they’re lost in the cold.”
You blink snowflakes off your lashes and squint up. A face hovers above you. Framed by a beanie pulled low, jaw dusted with scruff and snow, eyes the chilly blue of a river that knows its own power. A uniformed parka creaks when he crouches beside you, the patched emblem reading Park Ranger and his name etched beneath it like it’s daring you to say it out loud.
Barnes.
You swallow. You have absolutely no intention of saying anything out loud. Your vocal cords have fled the scene.
He studies you, head tilting. “You injured?” he inquires, tone wrapped in concern but tied off with humor. “Frozen in place? Dramatic flair? What’s the diagnosis?”
You would sit up if your dignity weren’t already frozen solid somewhere behind you. You lift a hand weakly.
“I’m lost,” is all you can say, partly because he’s looking at you with eyes so blue they could start their own weather system.
A low chuckle rises out of his chest, soft and warmly amused, but holding something sympathetic too. He leans closer, gloved hands hovering near your arms but not touching yet. “Guess that’s why I’m here, doll,” he drawls. “Now, you hurt anywhere?”
His voice and the concern hidden behind the charming grin make your heart thump hard enough to warm an entire zip code.
“I’m— I’m fine,” you breathe, though you feel like a startled squirrel someone tried to politely interview.
His lips twist into a grin that could thaw glaciers. “Well, sweetheart, you’re lucky your friends called before dark. Said you wandered off and didn’t come back. Sounded pretty worried. Rightfully so. This trail can get nasty once the temperature drops.” He helps you sit up, hands bracing your back.
You let out a tiny groan. “They didn’t sound worried when they refused to come outside. I just wanted to make snow angels.”
His mouth jerks up at the side. “And you succeeded. Too well, maybe.” He tilts his head, assessing the wings you carved into the snow. “Honestly? Best one I’ve seen all season.”
You glance at him, suspicious. “You’re humoring me.”
“Nope,” he counters with a grin so roguish it shouldn’t be a thing in national parks. “You’ve got a talent, doll.”
You laugh, unexpected, breathy. He seems pleased by the sound.
“Let’s get you warmed up,” he says, rising and offering you a gloved hand. “Can you stand? Mind if I help you up?”
You slip your hand into his, and he lifts you with an ease that feels like a compliment. You sway a little when he pulls you upward, and his other hand slides instinctively to your waist to hold you tight. Snow cascades off your coat in plumes, and he brushes a bit of it from your shoulder, casual but attentive, like he’s done it for a thousand visitors — but something in the softness of his touch hints he hasn’t.
You blame the cold for the way your breath catches. You absolutely blame the cold.
“Thanks,” you mutter, looking anywhere but his universe-blue eyes.
“No problem,” he replies, voice lowering just slightly. He is close enough that his words brush your cheek.
He guides you through the trees as dusk deepens, his steps sure, yours uncertain, but his presence is constant, a warm orbit you find yourself drifting toward. The air is crisp enough to etch your breath in runes. He checks on you every few minutes. You warm enough? Need water? Doin’ okay? And each time you answer, he gives that faint, crooked smile as if he’s memorizing your voice.
And each time a flush prickles your cheeks that has absolutely nothing to do with the cold.
“So,” he ventures, glancing sideways, “you just went out here alone, huh?”
You groan. “My sorority sisters said they wanted a winter getaway. They meant a fireplace-and-wifi getaway. And, I don’t know, I just pictured something else. I wanted to see some snow. But everything looks the same around here. Didn’t mean to get lost.”
He chuckles and it’s a low and warm and dangerous sound. “Well,” he drawls, nudging your elbow lightly, “you picked a good day to get lost. I was on shift. And I’m told I have a knack for finding people who wander off.”
You laugh and meet his eyes. The sunset paints him in copper and glittering sparkles of the snow. His smile in response looks like he is pocketing the sound for later.
By the time the first cabin lights shimmer through the trees, you’re certain you’ve thawed more from his proximity than from the walking.
He slows slightly, as if reluctant to end the walk. “Almost there,” he says quietly, brushing a few stray snowflakes off your shoulder — an excuse, maybe, to touch you again. It makes your chest flutter. “Your friends are waiting. One of them is stress-eating pretzels.”
You smile and wince at the same time. “That’s Darcy.” You take in a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m ever going to live this down.”
“Maybe not.” His eyes twinkle, and it’s not the reflections of the snow. “But if it helps, I’m free tomorrow. I could supervise any future snow-angel endeavors. Make sure you don’t get lost again.”
Your heart attempts a gymnastic move it did not warm up for. “Is that a professional offer?”
“Mm.” He slips you a lopsided smirk that sends heat straight through your frozen bones. “Call it community outreach.” His hands are sliding into his jacket pockets with faux-nonchalance. You try not to acknowledge the way it is stretched over his shoulders and makes him look as though he can carry entire pine trees.
Your heart flutters — subtle as a snowmelt, warm as a hidden ember.
You smile, slow and genuine. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
“Good,” he replies softly, giving you a meaningful look, as he opens the door for you. “Hope you do.”
And as the warm air spills out, your sorority sisters swarming you with relief, you glance back at him.
He’s still looking at you.
And the smile he gives you is small, subtle, but enough to melt something deep inside you that the cold never stood a chance against.
This is why the reader in my old fics was me....because my stories were for me, cringe, unrelatable, or etc. It may have been shared with others, but those fics were for me.
I wish you would write Aemond Targaryen being pursued and flirted with by Loki, the god of mischief. I would love to see their dynamic together, because I feel Aemond would be so skeptical at first, and Loki would think he's oh-so pretty. 👀
Okay, so now that's out of the way, I can answer this...not an ask. It's a full-on attack. So, in response..
Once Loki catches sight of that white haired, cinched waisted, cunt serving, touch starved, hot blooded, sexy dragon, that will be all Loki can think about.
Aemond would be first, be driven mad by the God, and then driven mad for his God, ya feel me? Loki would do anything for Aemond's attention or a reaction. Oh, the flirty quips and the teasing touches that are completely unnecessary..
Oh yes, I need Ice claiming his fire because Loki would melt from the heat of his dragon and tame the fire inside Aemond.
I need them. I need them together. I need them together gasping in pleasure into each other's mouths..
tangentwithtanner
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vaporwave
janainaart
jacobvanloon
