Hello!! My name is Auggie, I’m an eighteen year old freshman in film school. This is a blog for writing and oc purposes, occasional shit posting and all that jazz. I have a lot of interests so please talk to me about them! This is an 18+ blog, please. no minors OR ageless bios UNLESS YOU DM ME TO AGE VERIFY! I doubt I’ll be leaning into nsfw writing but I am open to the idea, though it’ll be occasional. I write for The Black Phone, Legion (2017), Abigail, and wtv else I’m interested in! Requests are OPEN and ENCOURAGED! I’ll write for Finney Blake/Rinney/Finnesto, so please. Please send things to my ask! Headcanons, one shots rqs, anything. I’m begging here. I also really like Hadestown. Dividers from @cafekitsune! Basic dni .. proshippers (blakeshaw or anything of the like shippers specifically…..), homophobes, transphobes, etc. no hatred will be tolerated here thank yew.
THE BLACK PHONE:
i was really good; finney blake one-shot.
no silver lining; finnesto one shot.
all wound up; finnesto one shot, 18+.
in my room; finnesto one shot, 18+
do i look like him?; finnesto one shot.
save your tears; finnesto one shot.
can you find me?; brinney on-going fic. chapter one. chapter two.
your favorite; finnesto one shot, 18+
ABIGAIL:
late nights; stakeshipping one shot.
my father’s daughter; oc one shot.
meeting caleb; stakeshipping one shot.
tongues & teeth; stakeshipping one shot.
nightmares; stakeshipping one shot.
bite the hand (that needs me); stakeshipping one shot.
doomsday; stakeshipping one shot.
late nights (v2); stakeshipping one shot.
THE SOCIETY:
over and over (i fall for you); on-going hassandra fic.
summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.
(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)
pairing: college au!bucky x reader
warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it
(other parts) (masterlist)
part 3/3:
Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.
“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.
Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.
A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.
He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.
“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.
“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.
“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”
A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.
“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.
She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.
-
(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)
-
“Did you just kiss me?”
His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.
“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”
“Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”
“What?”
It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love. Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.
“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”
Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.
His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.
And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.
“Bucky, wait.”
“What’s wrong doll?”
“Can we stop?”
There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.
“Thank God you asked.”
“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”
“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”
A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.
And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.
/
Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.
Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.
Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.
/
“Are you embarrassed of me?”
Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.
“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”
“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”
It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.
“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”
You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.
“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”
Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.
/
It goes like this;
People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.
People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.
You really have to try to be oblivious to love.
/
(text messages between classes)
(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex
(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell
(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a “🍆🍆🍆” playlist
(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???
(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing
(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you
(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3
/
It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease. He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.
And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.
/
He thinks it’s weird.
He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.
But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.
“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”
“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.
“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”
He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.
“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.
And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.
/
“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”
You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.
“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”
