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blerb-f1 · 9 months ago

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"Lost" - Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Charles celebrates too hard and gets lost. More news at 6

Find more on my masterlist!

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“Sir?”

“Sir!”

“Wah?”

Charles awoke as he felt his shoulder getting ruffled, eyes dry and hurting. His throat was dry.

“Sir, please get up. This train is finished cleaning, you have to leave”

‘Train?’, he wondered in confusion. Hadn't he just been celebrating his win in Monaco? He took a look at the person shaking him. She was a train attendant, pretty looking he might add. Her uniform was not flattering the least. A light blue t-shirt with a dark blue vest thrown over it. Her accent was german. He attempted to get out of his seat but stumbled, bad leg control.

She supported his shoulder.

“Where am I?”

“Far off from any kind of civilisation you'd normally travel to, based on that watch on your arm” the attended reported. “The middle of nowhere, in Germany.”

Charles held his head. “I don't remember getting on this train at all.”

She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. “Well, you had all the necessary tickets for your journey. Must have gotten them from somewhere.”

Together they walked outside of the train. The train station was small, one white painted building. Only two tracks, lot's off trees.

“Have you got anywhere to go to?”

Charles looked at her, thinking. Fumbling around his pocket resulted in nothing, his phone and wallet were gone. Shit.

“Apparently not. Let's just get going. You can stay the night with me, I've got space.”

“Can't I just take this train back to where I'm from?” Charles asked her in desperation.

“Good Joke, truly. This train runs every two hours during the day. And then you'd have to take more trains, none of which usually run in the night as well. Also, I've had a long day of work. I'm really, really beat up.”

Charles sighed. ‘What did I just get myself into? The people saying to not mix uppers and downers were right…’

She led him to her Car, a little silver Hyundai. Throwing her backpack in and settling into the driver's seat, she sighed in relief. “Finally done.”

“Done?”

“I've got the weekend off. Your arrival kinda ruined it but we gotta take the things as they come. I'm Y/N L/N. You?”

“Charles Leclerc”

“That sounds French”

“Monegasque”

“What? I don't know that word”

“I'm from Monaco!”

She looked at him in surprise. “Now you're pulling my leg. You got here from MONACO? You must have taken like 10+ trains!”

“Urgs, not so loud. My head hurts”

“God.” She groaned as she inserted the car key, starting the little engine. “Move your hand”

“Huh?”

“Either you move your hand or you loosen the handbrake. I can't get it with you spreading over there”

Charles quickly lifted his arms in the air. “Isn't it Electric?”

She just looked at him exasperated. “Do I look like I'm shitting money? I can't afford a car that new. Unless you'd wanna pay one Mr. Money Bag over there.”

“Oi, that's rude”

“You're from Monaco, don't y'all bath in money and champagne? Now, let's just get going.”

The car ride was silent with Charles looking out of the windows. This really was the countryside. Trees, fields, cows and horses. Lots of half-timbered houses.

After half an hour of journey, with them passing over roads he'd never even classify as those, considering the many holes and breaks they finally reached a large property. A large half timbered house with a similar looking barn and a long building houses garages presented itself to him. She parked the Hyundai in one of the Garages, the smaller one to be exact, and stepped outside.

Charles followed her as she unlocked the front door, revealing a house with small-ish rooms with low height walls painted weight. The most color each room spotted was oak- all the furniture and floor were oak. He had never been in a house like this before.

“Stair up, the left room is the bathroom. Soap's there, go shower. I'll put clean clothes and towels in front of the door for you.”

“Shower?”

“Sorry …Charlie. You stink. Long journey and all”

“Ah, I'm so sorry! I'll go shower immediately!”

Charles stepped into the bathroom, throwing his clothes on the ground. The second they left his body he noticed the less than stellar stench of sweat, alcohol and weed stuck on them. The water hitting his skin felt heavenly, scrubbing off layers of grime and dirt he never thought could amass so quickly. The water was different, as well. It didn't smell of chlorine as much, more like iron instead. Nonetheless, only after the shower did he realize what a stinky guy he had become. The clothes laid in front of the door were oversized on him. Some red, used polo shirt and cargo pants with frayed edges awaited him. Downstairs in the Kitchen, Y/N had changed into casual wear, foot already served on the table. Charles settled into the chair, staring at the provided meal. “What, you’re not hungry?” she asked him, tauntingly. “I don’t know how to eat this” he had to state.

“Look”, she said. The table was covered in two plates, each having a solid kind of bun laid on it and a pot with sausages swimming around. She took her knife, cutting a slit into the Bun. “Take the Brötchen-”, she then grabbed a fork and fished out a sausage, putting it into the ‘Brötchen’, “then put the sausage in there. "That's it.”

“Nothing else?” Charles asked, pretty confused.

“Yeah, simple meal you know. "Nothing fancy.”

“Hm.”

They ate silently, with Charles being confused at how hard that Brötchen was. He slept in the living room that night. The house didn’t have blinds but there were no street lights to keep him awake. Instead pure silence, something he never encountered anywhere. It was almost blissful - until the sun woke him up at 6AM and the birds were singing really loudly. He heard a loud mechanical noise and a cupboard clinking, then Y/N appeared in the doorway, offering a mug. “Coffee.”

The cup of coffee was hot, very nice.

“We’ll go to the electronics store to get you a phone, so that you can get your stuff in order. I can’t get you onto a plane without documents.”

“Aight.”

“Are we there soon?”

“Sorry mate, nothing’s close by.”

Driving to the electronic store took over half an hour and as they finally arrived, no grand palace was awaiting him. It was a dinky old little store, the bottom floor housing washing machines, fridges and vacuums. The upstairs was mostly TVs and DVDs, the phones tucked into the corner. Charles approached the few iPhones they had there, playing around with them.

“Dude, pick something cheaper”

"Why?" I’d just buy something that lasts.”

Y/N looked at him in annoyance. “I don’t know when you’ll be able to pay me back. That stupid phone is like a third of my monthly income. I can’t afford that.”

“A third?”, he asked in shock.

“Yeah, train attendants don’t earn much. Tickets want to be cheap right? Also…” she added. “We gotta get you a limited plan. Since you don’t have an ID, I have to be the owner. We should get a monthly one so that i can cancel it later.”

He simply agreed, settling on one heck of a cheap phone.

“Finally.” he sighed, installing his social media apps and creating a new WhatsApp profile. Contact to the outside world could be established.

“I need to call my team.”

“Please do, i bet they’re worried sick”

Charles leaned against the door as Y/N settled inside, as he heard the familiar call beep. Then, a voice he hadn’t heard in a while returned from the speaker.

“Who’s there?”, asked his friend, Andrea Ferrari.

“It’s me, Charles!”

"Charles?!" Where the fuck have you been ? We were so worried about you!”

“So fun story, i apparently took multiple trains and am now somewhere randomly in Germany. And I lost my wallet along with my phone.”

“Somewhere in Germany and no identification… Can you rent a car?”

“No, since I obviously have no ID, right?”

"Ah, shit. How’d you get a phone?”

“A train attendant took me in and bought it, but she can’t really afford more than that.”

Andrea seemed to think for a moment. “What if we send her money and she drives you back?”

“That sounds like a moronic, stupid journey…”

Shortly afterwards, Y/N made large eyes as insane amounts of cash appeared on her bank account. She didn’t believe that Charles actually was rich, especially not that he was an F1 Driver. For Ferrari as well! The Michael Schumacher Ferrari! She was quick to convince however, as a paid vacation like that sounded like a nice idea. They headed to the car dealership which also rented cars.

“Hyundai, again?” Charles complained.

Y/N just stared at him. “I know a guy there, the only spot where they won’t scam you.”

She had picked a car that looked quite similar to hers, just a bit longer with more horsepower. “I don’t like driving big cars. Want some power for the Autobahn though.” Charles whined in Response:” Can’t I drive? Pretty please? I haven't driven a car in a while~”

“Do you currently have a physical license?”

“No”

“Then shut up. I'd lose my license if we were to get caught. My car takes me to work, no options without”

He wanted to pout in response but that had quickly become not an option. The drive was sheer madness. Y/N was running on hopes and energy drinks, pushing the little car to its limit. Charles was gripping every piece of interieur he physically could as she drove at max speed for every stretch she could. Google had estimated the journey to take 13 hours, she shaved off 2 of them. He made a note of never saying that women were the calmer drivers. Blasting loud techno music that turned into a monotonous drone combined with the engine screaming as German countryside flew past him, only interrupted by gas station breaks.

Sweet, sweet silence they proved to be. A heaven of calm, shoved tightly between what most likely was an out-of-body experience.

Then, silence, white doves and heavenly goodness stopped: the return of techno. Y/N throwing the Car around Italy’s shit roads, ignoring all laws of traffic ever created. One goal in Mind: Maranello.

With the crack of dawn and the first worker’s arriving to open the doors, they saw something they had never seen in their long career. A crazed car coming to a full stop, brakes glowing hot directly in front of them. Passenger side flung open and their golden treasure stepping out. Il Predestino had returned, he had risen from the dead.

And was vomiting against a tree.

“Aren’t you F1 Drivers supposed to be tough or something?”

Charles tiredly leaned against said tree, face free of blood. “We’re tough but not tough like that. I can survive a long ass GP but not 11 hours of insanity”

The crazed driver laughed, her whole body shaking. She approached him, forcefully shaking his hand. “It was nice to get to know you, big boy. I want to go to sleep now, hit me up if you want to visit Germany again.” Y/N shoved a slip of paper between his tightly pressed fingers and walked off as an employee showed her the way. She was to stay somewhere close by as some NDAstuff needed to be handled now.

On the other side, more people were approaching. Charles' friends, the team and the media. Maybe Germany was actually a nice spot to vacation in. Without all the circus going on here. When was the winter break again?

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I pinky promise that i WILL continue this since i wrote it for my friend acexf1 over on YouTube. It's more set-up than anything rn. My other stuff is also getting continuations now!

#f1 x reader #blerb writes #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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nameless-ken · 28 days ago

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The Things Better Left Unsaid - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Just an idea that came into my head that I wanted to get out. Debating on if I should do a part two to this. Let me know if I should!

words: 4.2k

warnings: mostly angst and fluff, best friends pining after each other

masterlist

You and Bucky had always been a team, growing up on the same street, your bedroom windows perfectly aligned across from one another. It started with the two of you tapping on the glass with tiny fists, trying to get each other’s attention. Later, it became the flicker of flashlights and shadow puppets against your curtains during late-night talks. By the time you met Steve Rogers in first grade, your trio was inseparable. Steve, small and scrappy, needed the kind of loyalty only you and Bucky could provide. Together, the two of you made sure no one would to mess with him.

Rumors were inevitable. By the time middle school rolled around, your moms were already joking about how you and Bucky were “destined” for each other. “One day, you’ll be Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky’s mom would tease, making you roll your eyes while your cheeks burned. In high school, the rumors took a life of their own. Some kids whispered about you and Bucky being secretly together; others claimed it was Steve. Some even spun stories about the three of you.

Whenever Bucky caught wind of it, he was quick to shut it down. “Platonic soulmates exist, you know,” he’d say, grinning in a way that dared anyone to argue. But it stung more than you’d admit, hearing him say it so definitively, as if he could never think of you as anything but a friend.

Then came sophomore year, when Bucky got into his first real relationship. The rumors died almost instantly, replaced by whispers of envied girls who wished they were in her shoes. For you, it was harder. Bucky, who had always been your partner for Friday night movie marathons and Sunday bike rides into town with Steve, suddenly wasn’t there anymore. He started skipping out on your traditions, forgetting dates and moments that had once felt sacred. Even Steve’s sixteenth birthday—a day you both had planned together since middle school—slipped through Bucky’s fingers. Steve didn’t forgive him easily for that, and neither did you.

When the relationship ended, Bucky came back, knocking on your window one Friday night like no time had passed. You and Steve teased him relentlessly about his absence, but deep down, you were just relieved to have him back. It wasn’t long before everything felt normal again—or as normal as it could be when your feelings for him started to shift.

The memories were countless, small and scattered like pieces of a puzzle that made up your childhood. There was the time in seventh grade when Bucky punched Tommy Matthews for stealing your lunch, even though it got him grounded for a week. Or the summer before high school, when you dared him to climb the old oak tree in your backyard, and he fell, breaking his arm. “Don’t tell Mom,” he’d begged through gritted teeth, laughing even as you panicked.

There were lighter memories, too: sneaking into the corner store for candy, getting caught and sweet-talking your way out of trouble; late-night snowball fights that ended with you shivering in Bucky’s too-big coat; and the time you, him and Steve decided to play hooky from school, spending the whole day reading comics on the roof of Steve’s garage.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. Bucky’s smile started to make your stomach flip, and the way he casually threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the school hallways left you buzzing for hours. The worst were the nights when you snuck into his room like you always had, curling up beside him and talking nonsense until the early hours. Those nights, your heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid, knowing it would never be more than this.

Senior year brought it all to the surface. The shared glances that lasted a beat too long, the playful teasing that felt like something more, the way your heart raced every time he called his “doll”. You didn’t mean for it to happen, to fall so deeply for your best friend. But now, as graduation loomed closer, the thought of leaving Brooklyn—of leaving him—was unbearable.

Steve, of course, had known all along. He had a knack for seeing what neither of you could. “You’re both idiots,” he’d scream inside his head, rolling his eyes every time he caught you staring at Bucky like he hung the stars in the sky. He tried everything to get you to confess—little nudges, not-so-subtle hints—but the fear of ruining what you had kept you silent. Bucky, for all his confidence, seemed just as scared.

One evening, as the three of you sat on Bucky’s porch and as the sun set and the street lights flickered on, the weight of the future settled between you. The silence stretched, heavy with words none of you could say.

“I’m gonna miss this,” you said softly, staring at the street you’d known your whole life.

“Me too,” Bucky murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Steve stayed quiet, his head faced the ground as he kicked around a rock.

You turned and looked at Bucky, searching his face for something—anything—that might give him away. But Bucky, as always, was impossible to read. Instead, he smiled, the same boyish grin that had made you fall for him in the first place.

“Come on,” he said, standing and offering you a hand and patting Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s make one last memory before we grow up.”

And just like that, all three of you were kids again, racing down the street under the glow of the streetlights, holding on to the fleeting magic of everything you couldn’t say.

The night air was crisp as the three of you ran, laughter echoing through the quiet neighborhood. It was like stepping back in time—back to a world where nothing mattered except the moment. Steve led the way, his small frame surprisingly quick, while Bucky stayed close by your side, glancing back to make sure you were keeping up.

“Where are we even going?” you called out as your breathed heavily, not being much of a runner.

Steve turned around, jogging backward with a mischievous grin. “To the park, obviously! Last one there owes the other two milkshakes!”

“You’re already losing, Rogers!” Bucky shouted, picking up speed and tugging your arm. “Come on, doll, we can’t let him win.”

The nickname made your heart stumble, but you pushed the thought aside, focusing on the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. Bucky’s hand stayed wrapped around yours, warm and steady.

When you finally reached the park, Steve was sitting smugly on a swing, his hands gripping the chains as he swayed lazily. “Looks like I’m getting two milkshakes,” he said, his grin wide.

“You cheated,” Bucky accused, bending over with his hands on his knees, pretending to catch his breath. “Short legs like yours don’t move that fast without some trickery.”

“Maybe you’re just slow,” Steve shot back with a laugh.

You sat on the other swing, the cool metal chains biting into your palms. The park looked exactly as it had when you were kids—the worn-down merry-go-round, the old slide with a dent at the bottom, the same creaky swings where the three of you had spent so many afternoons.

“Remember when Steve dared you to jump off the swings while it was still moving?” you said, looking at Bucky.

He laughed, the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, and I ended up with a sprained ankle. Mom grounded me for a week.”

“And you still tried to climb the fence two days later,” Steve added, shaking his head. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“Please, I knew what I was doing,” Bucky said, sitting on the swing next to yours. “Mostly.”

You laughed, the memory warm and familiar. “What about the time we tried to build a treehouse in Steve’s backyard? We didn’t even make it past the ladder.”

Steve groaned, covering his face. “Don’t remind me. My mom was so mad when we nailed those boards to the tree. She said we’d kill ourselves before we even got it halfway up.”

“Good times,” Bucky said, leaning back on his swing, his legs stretching out in front of him. His gaze drifted upward, to the stars peeking through the leaves. “Feels like yesterday.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, following his gaze. “It does.”

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came with years of knowing each other.

Steve broke the silence, his voice quieter than usual. “You know, no matter where we all end up, this’ll always be home.”

Bucky nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s gonna be weird, though. Not seeing you guys every day.”

Your chest tightened at the thought. Graduation was supposed to be exciting, but all you could think about was how different everything would be. Steve, with his dreams of art school. Bucky, with his plans to join the military. And you, still unsure of where you fit into the world.

“Hey,” Bucky said suddenly, nudging your arm. “We’ll figure it out. Always do, right?”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. Always.”

Steve stood, brushing off his jeans. “Alright, enough of this sappy stuff. Let’s go get those milkshakes. And Bucky, you’re paying. I don’t care what you say—I won.”

Bucky groaned, but he followed, muttering something about “rigged games” as the three of you headed back toward the main street. His shoulder brushed against yours as you walked, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like everything would be okay.

But deep down, you knew this night was a goodbye to the way things used to be.

Your room was chaotic. Open boxes were scattered across the floor, half-filled with a mix of clothes, books, and trinkets you couldn’t quite decide whether to keep or leave behind. The walls, once plastered with posters and photos, were bare, the room already beginning to feel like it belonged to someone else. You sat cross-legged in the middle of the mess, holding an old photo of you, Bucky, and Steve from eighth grade.

You sighed, setting the photo down on top of a box labeled Memories. The future was coming on too fast and it felt like you were leaving more behind than you were taking with you.

There was a knock on your bedroom door frame. You looked up to see Bucky standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Your mom said you might need some help,” he said, his tone light but his eyes soft, searching yours.

You forced a smile, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “You’re brave to volunteer. It’s like a war zone in here.”

He stepped in, carefully maneuvering around the boxes. “Guess I better get familiar with it. I’ll be seeing places like that soon.” Bucky tried to joke and failed as your small smile disappeared.

Bucky ignored it and moved further into your room. He picked up a stack of books, glancing at the spines. “Still got all those Jane Austen novels, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who borrowed Pride and Prejudice and never gave it back.”

He grinned, setting the books down. “What can I say? Darcy’s got some moves.”

The easy banter settled the tension slightly. Bucky crouched next to you, reaching for a smaller box labeled Miscellaneous. As he opened it, his hand stilled, pulling out a small, faded flashlight.

“No way,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

Your breath caught. You hadn’t seen that flashlight in years. It was the same one he’d used to flash messages to you across the street when you were kids, the one that had started all your late-night talks.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” he said, turning it over in his hands, his thumb brushing against the worn surface.

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady. “I guess I couldn’t let it go. It’s… kind of important.”

Bucky looked up at you then, his expression unreadable but intense, like he was trying to memorize your face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”

The air between you shifted, heavy with everything unsaid. His knees brushed yours as he sat back, still holding the flashlight. You could feel the weight of his gaze, and your heart started to race, a nervous, uneven rhythm.

“Bucky…” you started, but your voice faltered when his hand rested on the floor, so close to yours you could feel the heat of his skin.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice quieter now, his eyes locked on yours.

For a moment, it felt like the world stopped. Everything in your room faded, the only thing you could focus on was him—the curve of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something. You leaned forward just an inch, drawn to him like you always were, the space between you shrinking.

But then he pulled back, just enough to break the moment. He cleared his throat, his hand retreating as he set the flashlight gently back into the box.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You nodded quickly, blinking away the haze of the moment. “Yeah. Right. Lots to pack.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, both of you busying yourselves with the boxes, avoiding each other’s eyes. But the tension lingered but neither of you brave enough to name it.

When Bucky finally left, hours later, you stood at the window and watched him walk down the sidewalk and up his porch before he disappeared into his house. For a moment, you thought about calling him back, about saying the words that had been on the tip of your tongue all night. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, clutching the flashlight in your hands, the weight of everything unsaid pressing heavy on your chest.

The sound of laughter echoed through Bucky’s house. The kitchen was alive with your mom and Bucky’s mom chatting as they prepared trays of finger sandwiches and fruit platters, while Steve’s mom fiddled with the coffee maker, muttering about how much caffeine a morning like this required. The living room buzzed with excitement as younger siblings and cousins darted between the adults.

You stood at the top of the stairs, peering down at the chaos with a soft smile. Bucky’s house had always felt like a second home, and today, with all your families crowded together, it felt just like how it did growing. Your mind drifts off, reminiscing about all the holidays celebrated here, missing the simplistic and nostalgic feelings of those days.

“Hey, don’t linger. You’re the one who insisted on wearing heels,” Steve teased as he passed you, nudging your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes but followed him down the hall to Bucky’s room, where the man himself was standing in front of the mirror, frowning at his reflection.

“This stupid tassel keeps flipping the wrong way,” Bucky grumbled, swiping at it like it had personally offended him.

“Here, let me,” you said, stepping up to fix it. Your fingers brushed against his shoulder as you adjusted the tassel, and he stilled for a moment before offering a soft “Thanks.”

Steve flopped onto the edge of the bed, adjusting his cap. “Man, this thing is itchy,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his robe.

Bucky smirked, stepping back to inspect himself in the mirror. “It’s supposed to feel uncomfortable. It’s a reminder that we’re about to enter the real world where everything is worse.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “You’re such an optimist, Barnes.”

“Hey, I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking,” Bucky replied with a grin, though his expression softened as his eyes darted between you and Steve. “But seriously… I just wanted to say something before we head out.”

You and Steve both turned to him, the lightheartedness fading away. Bucky hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words.

“I’m glad I had you two with me through all of this,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “It hasn’t always been easy, but… I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Couldn’t have made it without you guys.”

Steve, ever the sentimental one, stood and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “You’ve always had us, Buck. And you always will.”

Your throat tightened as you looked at them both, your best friends who had been by your side through every high and low. “We’re a team,” you said softly. “Always have been. Always will be.”

For a moment, the three of you just stood there, the weight of the day settling over you. It wasn’t just a graduation; it was the end of an era, the closing of a chapter that had defined so much of your lives.

Steve broke the silence first, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Alright, enough of this sappy stuff. Let’s graduate before I start crying.”

You laughed, and Bucky grinned, the tension easing as he reached over to nudge your arm. “Yeah, we can’t have Rogers blubbering in the middle of the ceremony.”

Steve shot him a mock glare. “Don’t push your luck, Barnes.”

The three of you laughed as you headed downstairs, your hand brushing against Bucky’s briefly as you walked side by side. Downstairs, the laughter and chatter of your families wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and for a moment, the future didn’t feel so uncertain.

Today, at least, you had this—your friends, your family, and a shared sense of belonging, that you grasped onto for these fleeting moments.

The auditorium hummed with energy, a crowd full of proud families and eager graduates filling every seat. The stage at the front was adorned with banners and bouquets in your school colors, the polished wood gleaming under the bright lights.

You filed into your seat with your classmates, the rustle of gowns and the low murmur of voices filling the space as everyone settled in. Bucky was in the first row, his posture relaxed, but the subtle tapping of his foot against the floor betrayed his nerves. Two rows behind him, you gripped the program in your lap like a lifeline, the mix of excitement and bittersweet anticipation settling in your chest. Steve sat three rows behind you, his cap slightly askew as he leaned back in his chair, as he tapped his finger against his thigh, a nervous habit he’s had since forever ago.

The opening speaker took to the podium, their voice cutting through the loud whispers. Stories were shared, advice was provided, and promises of bright futures were offered.

It was when your gaze fell to the back of Bucky’s head that you noticed him shift slightly. He turned, just enough to catch your eye, and smiled softly. It wasn’t his usual cocky grin or a teasing smirk—it was the kind of smile that spoke volumes without a single word. A smile that was just for you.

Your breath caught, the tightness in your throat making it impossible to return the smile properly. When he winked, the simple gesture filled you with warmth, mingled with the ache of knowing everything was about to change. You managed a shaky smile before he turned back around, your heart racing throughout the rest of the ceremony.

One by one, names were called, followed by applause and cheers as each graduate crossed the stage.

As your name was called, you rose, your legs trembling slightly as you made your way to the stage. The moment felt surreal—hands shaking yours, the weight of the diploma in your hands, the cheers from your family echoing in your ears. As you walked back to your seat, your gaze briefly met Bucky’s again, and the pride in his eyes made your chest tighten all over again.

When the last name was called, the room erupted into applause. The principal gave the final cue as caps flew into the air, a chaotic flurry raining down.

You wove through the groups of familiar faces you’ve spent the last 18 years with, searching for the two people who meant the most to you. Spotting Bucky and Steve wasn’t hard—Bucky stood tall and Steve’s blond head was unmistakable in the crowd.

The three of you collided in a fierce group hug, arms tangling as you held on tight.

“We did it,” Steve said, his voice thick with emotion as he patted both of your backs.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you slightly, his voice soft but firm. “We did it. Together.” His arms lingered around you a fraction longer than they did around Steve, his warmth grounding you amidst the chaos.

The hug broke apart reluctantly as your families swarmed in, their pride radiating in smiles and tears. Cameras flashed, capturing every possible combination of family and friends. Your mom insisted on a dozen different poses—one with Bucky, one with Steve, one with all three of you—and the laughter that spilled out of you made your cheeks ache.

For a little while, the joy of the moment masked the bittersweet ache that had been building all day. But every now and then, your gaze would catch Bucky’s, and the unspoken weight of what came next lingered in the space between you.

For now, though, you held onto this moment—this memory—tightly, unwilling to let it slip away just yet.

Bucky’s backyard was alive with the sounds of celebration. Laughter mingled with the sizzling of the grill, and the sweet aroma of barbecue drafted through the air. Kids darted across the lawn, chasing each other with bubbles and toy airplanes. Parents clustered in small groups, sharing stories and toasting with glasses of wine and bottles of beer.

Your cap and gown hung over the back of a chair near the patio, forgotten for now as you crouched on the lawn. Bucky’s younger sister sat cross-legged beside you, her brow furrowed in concentration as she held up a tiny daisy.

“Do you think this one’s pretty?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

“It’s perfect,” you replied, smiling as you took the delicate flower from her and tucked it into the growing crown of wildflowers.

As the sun started to dip lower, you glanced up, your eyes catching movement near the back door as Bucky slipped quietly through, his broad shoulders hunched slightly.

Your gaze shifted to Steve, who had been leaning near the grill, chatting with one of Bucky’s uncles. He had noticed too, his easy smile fading as his eyes followed Bucky’s retreating figure. When he caught your eye, he gave a small nod, his expression knowing and a little sad.

You patted Bucky’s sister on the shoulder. “Keep working on this—I’ll be right back.” She nodded, already focused on the next flower.

Standing, you brushed the grass off your knees and headed inside, weaving through the crowded kitchen. You found Bucky in his room, standing by the window with his back to you. The curtains were slightly drawn, framing his silhouette as he stared out at your bedroom window.

“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

He didn’t turn, his voice low and distant. “Just needed a minute.”

You stepped closer, careful not to startle him. “Big day,” you tentatively replied

“Yeah,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as he finally glanced at you. His blue eyes, usually so vibrant, were shadowed with worry. “Everything’s changing.”

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking into your chest. “It is.”

He turned back to the window, his hand resting on the sill. “What if it all falls apart? What if… we fall apart?”

The crack in his voice sent a pang through you. You stepped forward without thinking, crossing the space between you and wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but then his shoulders relaxed as he melted into your embrace. His arms wound tightly around your waist, keeping him grounded.

“We won’t,” you said firmly, your voice muffled against his chest. “No matter where we go or where we end up, we’ll always have this. We’ll always have each other.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his face inches from yours. His expression was a mix of gratitude and something deeper. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world held its breath, the sound of the party outside fading into the background.

Then he smiled faintly, the tension in his features easing. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your head.

You returned his smile. “Yeah. You’re mine too.”

He grinned, but there was something in his eyes that made your heart tighten, like he wanted to say more but didn’t. You felt it too, the weight of everything you never said.

And so, instead of confessing all the feelings you had hidden for so long, you shared a quiet moment, wrapped in the understanding that things were changing. You would go your separate ways, but you’d always have this—the memories, the childhood you spent together with Steve, and the unspoken bond that would always tie you to Bucky Barnes.

And for now, this was enough.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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Thanks to Ingek73 for sending this beautiful and unusual 2008 farmhouse in the Netherlands. It has 4 floors, 4bds, 2ba, 3.5ba, €1.589m / $1.735M. It is described as "an authentic country house with American allure."

This home is loaded with very high end finishes. An open entrance foyer has a lovely chandelier with a lampshade and a slate floor.

A lovely living room with a modern fireplace is cozier under a mezzanine. Isn't the fireplace unusual?

View of the living room from the mezzanine.

Next to the living room and double barn doors to the kitchen is a dining room.

What a great cabinet that takes up the entire wall.

The spacious kitchen has modern oak cabinetry.

Check out the stone sink.

And, look at the smart home system panel.

Beautiful tiles in one of the powder rooms.

The mezzanine is large and you can see the stairs going up to the other levels.

Desk handily tucked in by this staircase.

Large bedroom with an interesting beamed ceiling.

This is actually a tanning room.

One of the spacious full baths.

This bedroom at the top of the silo is fantastic, isn't it? Look at the lighting effects.

Lovely family room with a fireplace is completely accessible to the pool as well as having a great view of it.

Stairs to the lower level has an oar as a railing.

The stairs come down to this chic family room.

How classy is this glass doored sauna?

Unique shower room. Look at the bucket.

The wine cellar is a take on an ancient European cellar.

The patio and pool behind the house.

The barn is so cute. It could really be a flex space.

The barn has plenty of room for equipment.

Look at the garage. Very classy.

Cute vintage farm equipment decorates the property.

One of 2 ponds on the property.

#modern farmhouse the netherlands #villas #houses #house tours #home tour #submissions

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praxcrown5 · 4 months ago

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Carstober Prompt 21: Crash

Trigger warning: harassment, attempted suicide

Excerpt from my fanfic. Year is 1937, and Doc's mom, Annette, isn't dealing with life very well.

Annette left home quietly, not even bothering to close the garage door.

Sam was still asleep after their most recent siring attempt; the act taking a lot more out of him than usual…which was surprising since she was, once again, leaving his side with an empty plasma condenser.

Ahhh yes, her husband: the largest, strongest truck this side of the Mississippi. He could carry loads all across the country, but he could never seem to drive one home.

She snarled at her own, bitter wit and coasted to the end of the driveway.

It was late in the evening, and the moon was just starting to crest the pines. Despite it being fall, there was a wintery chill in the air.

She took a deep breath, letting the cool air cycle through her TR system.

What now…? She thought, sadly. She had already tried talking Sam around to visiting the clinic and, when that didn’t work, bringing up the topic to her in-laws.

After that…the harassment got worse. Most of the Longhauler women wouldn’t talk to her. The men were more sympathetic…mostly on account of her being a damn-good mechanic—you didn’t want to offend the person changing out your piston belts, after all. But, even so, they only made small talk. Her mother-in-law had become especially cruel, gossiping about Annette to anyone who’d listen, slapping Annette with snide, degrading comments when they were alone, introducing Annette at parties and social gatherings as her “barren” daughter-in-law.

Despite all of this, Annette had tried her best to remain positive. She forced herself to get up every morning…with no partner to snuggle against, sang to herself at dinner to beat back the oppressive silence of their empty home, cleaned and tended the garden to keep herself busy when she wasn’t working and did her best to smile and give her clients the best automotive care possible…despite hearing them call her things like “gold-digger” behind her boot.

She’d been maintaining, thanks mostly to her father and brothers. Her father, especially, did everything that he could to make her feel loved and appreciated…but, ultimately, he couldn’t solve her problems. He couldn’t make Sam get his siring cable repaired. He couldn’t stop Claire from spreading gossip to the rest of the townsfolk. At the end of the day, the best he could do was lean against her and tell her that it would get better.

Somehow.

Someday.

Tears started pooling in the corner of her eyes. She had been clinging to this notion, whispering it to herself like a personal mantra whenever doubt began to rear its ugly head.

It’ll get better. It’ll get better. Someday, It’ll get better...

Will it, though?

Annette gritted her teeth and started her engine to try to banish the thought from her mind…but it clung to her like cheap grease. Will things actually get better?

Her fuel pump squeezed painfully, fearfully and she gunned her engine, kicking up gravel and dust as she turned out onto the road, heading south, flicking on her headlights only as an afterthought.

Annette and Sam lived in a large, converted barn about fifteen minutes from town. As she sped down the old logging road, the terrain grew more rugged, with tall black pine and oak replacing the smaller saplings from the reclaimed Dawson Woods. The road began to switchback, ducking around steep exposures of sedimentary rock, but always gaining in elevation.

She was driving more recklessly than she probably should have been…but she couldn’t help it.

For years she had successfully managed use the “it’ll get better” mantra as a wall to block out any thoughts that might argue otherwise. Working long hours at the shop and taking on extra work from the clinic helped to reinforce it.

And up until tonight, the integrity of said wall had never been undermined.

Annette reached the top of a prominent, east-west trending hill that the locals called Oracle ridge and paused to catch her breath.

You’re not sure…are you?

Annette closed her eyes, fighting back tears.

Sam was only home for a week this time, so Annette wasn’t expecting much, surely not another siring attempt. But…he offered…because he knew that having a child meant the world to his wife, and he was willing to keep trying in the hopes that they’d somehow be successful. It was the first time in their two years of marriage that he’d done something like that, made an effort to show her that he cared, a rare expression of vulnerability when he had always been forced to be “strong” and “fearless.” She eagerly accepted his offer, and as they made love, the hope that she saw in his eyes and the compassion that she felt in his touch rejuvenated her, made her think that there was still a chance. That the planets and the stars would align just for them and they could have their happy ending.

And then she waited. Hours and hours of waiting with giddy anticipation, faithfully hoping for a factory notification.

She was going to be a mother! It was going to happen this time!

But…it didn’t.

And, for the first time in her life, the voices on the other side of the wall began to make themselves known, hissing and spitting at her through a spiderweb of newly formed cracks.

Wiper fluid was leaking freely down her fenders and her breath came in ragged sobs.

It’s not going to get better.

Annette shook her front end, trying to dislodge the thought.

It’s NOT going to get better.

Her eyes shot open and she revved her engine. It will! It HAS to!

Sam won’t go to the doctor. His parents won’t force him to go because they believe that you and your father are lying to them. So, logically, every future siring attempt will fail…and your life will always be just miserable as it is at present. It’s an exercise in futility if there ever was one.

No… No it’s not… Annette’s throat constricted

It’s hopeless.

Annette froze.

Hopeless.

The wall shattered. All the rogue thoughts that she’d tried to keep bottled up broke free and surged through her brain with the force of a tidal wave.

If nothing is going to change, what’s the point in trying? In caring? You care so much about other people…but they don’t seem to care much for you, do they?

Panicking, Annette gunned her engine and tore down the ridge. Her model wasn’t particularly fast on account of its weight, but the steep slope combined with her Cadillac standard V8 made sure that when she hit the first switchback, her tires had to really scrabble for traction. She cleared the curve, but just barely.

You’re pathetic. A waste of metal desperately clinging to false hopes and yearning for a life that you’ll never have.

The ghostly outlines of trees blurred in her peripheral vision. Another switchback ahead, not as sharp as the first one, but even so she could feel the literal edge of the road under her rear tires, the loose scree falling away to tumble down into the river below.

Really, is running all you can do?

Her eyes narrowed. Another switchback. Another close call, though this one came with a jolt of pain and a loud snap as she clipped a rock with her left back tire. The snap must have been her coil spring, because from that moment onward, her body seemed to list to that side and she’d bottom out on every dip and rise in the road.

A Sudden dip. Something large and sharp caught her undercarriage and tore the metal; the pain made her eyes water, but rather than slow down, she gunned it harder. Red line. Her engine was straining under the stress, and she was starting to feel nauseous as the hot metal began to effect nearby systems.

Annette, you’re a coward. You always have been. You could have stood up to your in-laws, but instead you kept your chassis low. You’re pathetic. So pathetic, that your family just stood by in silence while you suffered.

No! My father stood up for me!

Your father stood up for the Glenrunner name. Not you.

Annette counter steered the last curve, almost skidding into the river, but her flattening left rear tire helped keep her on the road. There was another sharp pain, this time further up into the axle; she could feel hydraulic fluid running down the inside of the tire.

She was on a straightaway, now, heading for Timing-Belt Bridge. There was a sharp turn on the other side, the sort of turn you had to make at less than twenty miles per hour, otherwise you’d end up hitting a wall of limestone.

Time seemed to slow as a deadly realization sunk its claws into her brain.

By the time her tires tore into the concrete of the bridge, she had reached sixty miles per hour. Even with her left rear tire about to give out, she would still be doing sixty as she hit the curve on the other side.

No. More. Pain.

Her engine screamed. Her vision was blacking out and she was starting to taste oil and other vital fluids in her mouth…

And then…the lights. Right in front of her. Head-on.

Instinct kicked in. She slammed on her brakes, but her momentum kept her going forward.

#cars fandom #pixar cars #cars #cars pixar #disney cars #disney pixar cars #cars 2006 #doc hudson #cars headcanons #cars fanfiction #annette glenrunner #glenrunner #samuel longhauler #sam longhauler #fabulous hudson hornet #carstober2024

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