#gold mining ruins

[jarredspec]

The historic Policeman’s hut in Arrowtown, Aotearoa.

Youtube | Instagram | Tip Jar

[sbblake]

written by william gold, performed by wilbur soot ⭐️

<3 follow my twitter here:

[celluzu]

Watching Tinakitten is like opening a dictionary of words you WILL start applying to your vocabulary wether you like it or not. I don't think I have ever used the word scumbag until like three weeks ago. I keep saying I'm gonna throw up. I keep saying get a job.

[jmpphoto]

Tom Kelly Bottle House by James Marvin Phelps Via Flickr: Throwback Thursday Tom Kelly Bottle House Rhyolite Ghost Town Nevada The Tom Kelly Bottle House in Rhyolite, Nevada, is a fascinating relic of ingenuity and resourcefulness from the early 20th century. Built in 1906 by Tom Kelly, this unique home was constructed using over 50,000 discarded glass bottles, mostly from beer and medicine bottles, due to the scarcity of traditional building materials in the remote desert town. The translucent walls shimmer with a kaleidoscope of light, giving the house an otherworldly charm. Though Rhyolite saw a rapid decline after the gold rush boom, the Bottle House remains a testament to human creativity and an enduring piece of Nevada’s history.

[ofandrastes]

me the second i open my drafts:

i should vigorously search the tags for the next 2 hours for elliott's irl fc

[brimstone-rose]

idk how i’m feeling about the colours and my hand shook while i was outlining the face with ink which narrowed it more than i wanted so now i’m trying very hard to convince myself not to just scrap the whole thing 😭

[13thpythagoras]

So apparently Brian Cocks

ahem Brian Cox

was saying usually large gas giants fall inward and end up closest to the star, very odd of our solar system to not have that; and that would have erased Earth and basically meant Jupiter would exist where the orbits of the inner planets are and the inner planets would be simply dust within a slightly larger Jupiter- in most solar systems this is what happens, according to Cox

but it's the pull of Saturn, the unlikely other gas giant, that pulls Jupiter back into the outer solar system early on- saving Earth's chance for later existence as a warm rocky planet.

Jupiter also deserves credit for acting as a giant gravity shield against asteroids and other stuff that might be hazardous, often times Jupiter just eats it like candy so the dangerous flying "candy" won't hit us and vaporize our continents...so big thanks Jupiter for like, vacuuming up that wild ass drunk comet in 1994

Is this a narrative that parallels the Babylonian creation myth of Enki and Enlil?

The two Gods who created our world, as best friends?...keeping each other in check so they don't go too crazy?

Sounds so familiar to how, while Jupiter protects our world, Saturn reined in Jupiter and stopped Jupiter from destroying us himself too.

Highly plausible that ETs were advanced and spacefaring before our solarsystem was born; we are in a region of space that has factors of a thousand more gold than surrounding regions of our galaxy. There's no natural way to explain this. It's exceedingly, basically airtight likelihood we are living in a solar system that *was* terraformed from the beginning to basically mine gold. That's why we're here, gold is apparently a necessary ingredient in space/time travel equipment, so aside from being pretty, gold is also just very useful, moreso than other elements. Not implausible to consider "sci fi" hypotheses about ET societies tweaking and tinkering with proto-stellar discs, making it more likely rocky inner warm planets will form; thus making it cheaper and easier to later mine gold; that kind of thing actually makes total sense to me.

Sci fi concepts to explore include space elevators, asteroid mining, the perils, the piracy (human and/or ET), the legal challenges after arrival back home with golden asteroids.

Wild to consider taking a $50 trillion gold brick 99% of the way back to earth's orbit only to get held up and mugged at laserpoint by a squad of UFOs

[kurooh]

MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, & suna rintarou tryin’ to knock up their pretty wife !

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, cuddlefucking, doggy, talk of kids & pregnancy, fluff, creampies, shower sex, minor cockwarming, squirting, full nelson, mirror sex, mention of lactation, mating press, cum in panties (offscreen), not proofread.

xoxo, juno ★ my namesake?! hehe, cheers to the surviving haikyuu fuckers on my blog <33 ty for your patience!! as always, send in some asks/reblog if you enjoyed, i love reading comments/tags

— MIYA ATSUMU

“go ahead ‘n slut yerself out all over my cock, baby.. fuuuck, jus’ like that.”

atsumu’s lips part around a needy moan, jaw hanging slackly in some kind of disbelief. after such a lengthy, tiring day, he found himself trudging into your shared bathroom to greet you.

he’d gotten hard in seconds, seeing your tits pressed against the glass door as well as your face, lidded eyes and cute pout enticing him to come join you. when he got onto his knees to get you ready, you’d bent over and tossed him a knowing smirk over your shoulder.

“lemme see that ass move again.. shit, ‘s perfect. yer perfect.” you giggle, throwing your ass back onto his cock, eyes rolling back when his tip kisses your cervix just right, sending sparks of pleasure right through your veins.

“tsumu, this isn’t all that fun,” you huff, the wild need for him to truly ruin you growing by the second. “wan’ you to fuck me, and make me yours.”

“baby, yer already mine,” atsumu lands a slap on your wet asscheek, startling you enough for your legs to spread further. “good girl,” he praises, hushed and under his breath. he reaches upwards and pulls the shower head down, pushes it into your hand and changes the setting.

“use this on yer clit, ‘kay? when yer feelin’ like ya wanna cum, don’t. hold it ‘n we’ll cum at the same time, yeah baby?”

you nod, and he smacks your ass hard, leaning backwards. atsumu pushes a hand through soaked gold strands, chuckling lowly although his voice has a serious edge to it. “‘s not how we say yes, is it?”

“y-yes, tsumu. at the same time.”

he draws his hips back, then finds himself advancing forward brutally. he doesn’t think about anything beside you — you, you, you. with the scent of your body wash tangling in the hot air, the beautiful curves and slopes of your body, the noises you make for him only.

your chest heaves when the steady spray of the shower head soon reaches your clit, immediately proving to be overwhelming and intense paired with him fucking you.

“so god damn tight,” atsumu hisses, nails digging crescent moons into the plush skin of your hips as his own collide with your ass. the bathroom is full of steam and the rhythmic clap of skin against skin — it’s hard to keep from trembling with how good everything feels, all over.

frantic panting cuts through the sound of your whimpers as atsumu feels himself nearing his peak. it’s nasty, downright filthy, the way your nails drag down the wall tiles as you desperately hump your ass back into him.

gasps of your name and affectionate nicknames fall from his lips like a sacred prayer, blending into a whiny harmony as atsumu’s thrusts grow rougher.

“baby,” he chokes, voice tight. “ya better be close, can barely last.”

“tsumu, cum inside me,” you beg, skin burning and pussy squeezing uncontrollably, squelching growing louder. “p-please, i can’t— i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” your body tenses, and the shower head falls to the floor with a clunk that neither of you register.

luckily atsumu looks down at the right moment, sees you squirt, pussy gushing onto his pelvis. as if your back arching and your clenching pussy wasn’t enough, he ends up cumming too hard, ribbons of white gushing deep into your awaiting pussy.

“fuckkk,” he groans, overstimulation setting in way too quickly and causing him to pull halfway out of your fluttering cunt.

“no, tsumu,” is all you can heave out, pushing back hard enough to send him into the wall behind him, muscled back hitting the tiles as he lets out a startled oomph. “wanna keep it inside, feels so good.”

— MIYA OSAMU

“samu,” you mumble into his lips, tossing a leg over his hip. he grunts, nose nudging your cheek as he pulls back. “yeah? what’s on yer mind, angel?”

“had a dream about a baby,” the words are spoken softly, and osamu’s fingers lightly graze your chin as he makes you look up at him. “i know it’s kinda stupid, but it was so..” your voice trails off sheepishly and there’s a pause before you admit, “you were such a good dad, samu, ‘n so sexy too.”

your bare bodies are bathed in the morning sunlight, warm and comforting as it peeks in through the curtains. this is the perfect moment with him, skin to skin, his cock still inside you as you kiss and talk about dreams of the future.

in his chest, feelings stir and ideas come to life in his head; osamu presses his hips forward with a hushed moan.

“well, i’ll give ya a baby, angel,” large hands smooth over your hips as he helps you turn away from him; then they pull you close, grabbing at your tits and tugging your nipples between his fingers.

“samu,” you sigh, words fading into a content moan as you feel his hips draw back, then advance forward, against your ass. “i want you to fill me up, give me everything.”

“only if ya take it all,” osamu huffs, tucking his face into your shoulder and closing his eyes as he starts to fuck his cock into you deeply. the thick tip kisses your sweet spot over and over, and if that wasn’t already overwhelming enough, your hand wanders towards your swollen clit.

somehow, osamu’s faster than you, releasing one of your tits and swatting away your hand before he’s finding your clit with his index finger and rubbing it in messy circles.

“s-samu, fuck— jus’ like that, don’t stop!”

your back arches against him, hips twisting as a heat spreads through your veins, fiery and intense in the best ways possible. the movement of your body and then the frantic clenching of your pussy is too intense for him; sharp whines escape his throat, muffled as osamu bites into your shoulder desperately.

“i-i— shit, ‘m gonna fill you up,” is all you can make out from his rushed mumbling, and you turn your head quickly, desperate for his lips.

“kiss me, samu. kiss me as you cum inside, please.”

it’s as though the words break him — his face twists as he kisses you, whole body tensing. he presses his cock deep, thickening and throbbing before he’s gushing cum and can’t seem to stop.

“ah, fuck,” he tosses his head back, fingers scrabbling at your nipples as his chest heaves against your back, heart pounding steadily.

you cum with a whine, grinding down on his cock in an effort to get him impossibly deeper. as you ride out your highs together, trembling deliciously, he can’t help but dissolve into giggles of pure happiness.

“angel, ya got that baby for sure, jus’ like ya wanted, hm? ah, i can’t wait for a mini-me or a mini-ya. yer gonna be the prettiest mom, swear.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ

“fuck, babe. you’ve got no idea about what i saw today,” tetsurō huffs, warm breath fanning over your tits as they bounce, controlled by your bra.

spices clatter as tetsurō sweeps his arm across the kitchen counter behind you, clearing the space so you can lean back a little easier. his grip on your thighs doesn’t waver, nor does the ruthless tempo of his hips.

“tetsu, what’d you see?” you gasp, tears threatening to pour over your waterline.

“well, i saw this family,” he grunts, thrusting into you particularly hard now that he’s recalling the memory. “the dad had their kid on his shoulders, and the mom was pregnant. they looked so happy, and it made me think of you.”

“is that so?” you ask, spreading your legs impossibly wider as an invitation. you bite your lower lip, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get his cock deeper.

“tetsu,” he raises his eyes from the mess between your legs to your face, earnest and flushed. “kiss me, baby.”

tetsurō obliges, lets you tug him forward by the chin, mesh his lips with yours. it’s warm and sweet, the aftertaste of the dessert you’d been making as his surprise for when he’d come home. your tongue slips between plush, parted lips and moves with his gently, quite a contrast from the rough way he’s fucking you.

“ah, shit,” he moans, struggling to kiss you back when he feels your sticky walls clenching down on his too sensitive cock.

tetsurō leans forward and buries his flushed face in your shoulder, kissing the tender skin a few times before nipping it and then finally biting down into your shoulder.

he practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into muscle as you push him forward. in a hushed tone and into his ear, you say sweetly, “tetsu, fuck a baby into me.”

“oh, i fucking will, princess.”

although, despite his rough words, he’s wheezing and whining every now and then into your shoulder, hoping it muffles his sounds.

your hand slides up his neck and tangles into dark tufts of hair, pulling tight as your own orgasm approaches. your pleasure mixes with his own, and just before the knot in your belly snaps, you feel a strong pulsing deep within your pussy.

he groans loudly, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. your nails dig hard into his scalp and the sting of pain only seems to make him get a little more vocal.

tetsurō pants into your neck, trying to find his bearings now that his limbs feel like jelly.

“hold me?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“h-haji, this was a good call..”

“oh yeah?” hajime’s voice rumbles in his chest, strong and steady against your back as he keeps your legs wide open. “have we ever tried this one?”

“i don’t think so, but we definitely will in the future.”

“feels that good, princess?” hajime chuckles, eyeing your reflections in the mirror mounted across the bed. for a moment, he considers the two of you puzzle pieces — he sees that his cock fits snugly inside you, and the thought that you may be made for each other briefly crosses his mind.

“of course it does,” a sheen of sweat glimmers on your face, skin glowing beautifully in the mirror. “god, hajime, y-you’re so deep..”

he notices your eyes falling shut, head tipping back, and he raises his hand to lightly smack your cheek. “mm, princess, gotta keep watching. i want you to see yourself cum, alright?”

“fine,” you huff, feet dangling in the air and bouncing every which way as he fucks into you, heavy balls smacking your pussy with each stroke.

“what made you wanna try this?” you ask, knowing you should save the question for later, but you’re too curious not to ask. why would your husband come home someday and randomly want to try a new position you’d never heard of?

“well, you know..” in the mirror, you catch the flush on his tanned cheeks. “we’ve both caught the fever recently, and this is a solid position for makin’ babies.”

you gasp sharply when hajime turns his hips ever so slightly, and the resulting sensation causes pressure to build in your pelvis. “shit— right there, haji, just like that..”

he grunts, body stiffening as he tightly holds you in place and fucks into you like it’s the last time you’ll ever be like this together.

“wanna get you pregnant,” hajime groans, abs flexing with the effort of maintaining his merciless pace, “i wanna—shit—wanna breed you.”

“you want it that bad?” you breathe, just barely keeping your eyes open and focusing on your bouncing reflection. “fuck me full, then, haji.”

hajime doesn’t question it, thinks of you with a swollen belly and milky tits all for him to hold and take care of. you, with your glowing skin and beautiful body from all the pregnancy hormones.

the idea of it all is too much to bear, not to mention cumming deep inside your cunt, this time with the intent to breed.

he can’t even muster the words to warn you that he’s cumming as hard as he is; after a choked, tight groan, he falls silent and rocks his hips into you.

“fuck it deep, haji,” you whisper, on the edge yourself. obedient and too far gone in his fantasy, he does exactly what you ask, whining very quietly from the sensitivity.

shaking on top of him and watching the reflections in the mirror, you cum hard, dissolving into unmatched pleasure. and you’re thankful you keep your eyes open, moaning at the very sight— hajime doesn’t even pull out, he’s still pushing his cock in and out of you, but cum races from your cunt in thick white rivulets.

“i’m trying,” he huffs, sensitive when he glances up and notices how intently you’re watching the mirror. his cheeks flush lightly when you both notice that most of his cum ends up dripping down his balls and out of you.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll cum however many times it takes, sound good?”

— SUNA RINTAROU

“you want a few brats? oh, i just felt your pussy squeeze up. ‘s what you want, huh?” rintarou bites, harshness of his thrusts drawing whimper after whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

“i want it, rin,” you feel one of his palms smoothing over the plushness of your lower stomach, just above your pelvis. “w-what’re you doing?”

he laughs at your stutter, keeps your legs steady over his shoulders. rintarou draws his hips back, leaving just his tip inside your quivering pussy. then, he presses down on your lower stomach and slides in, adding more pressure with each inch.

“rintarou!” you wheeze, jerking your hips to the side in a pathetic attempt to run away from the overwhelming pleasure he gives you with every movement, big or small.

“nuh uh, pretty girl,” his free hand grabs ahold of you tightly, tugs you towards him and then settles to rest on your neck. rintarou’s fingers are loose on each side of your throat, hand placed there in a demonstration of control. but what’s the point of that, when he’s already made it clear by hoisting your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half?

“you’ll take it, all of it.”

“but ‘m sensitive, i’ve cum too many times,” you can’t even recall a number or remember how long he’s been fucking you like this.

you’re both sticky with sweat, your thighs stained white with dried cum from previous rounds and marked with love bites he’d given you in his excitement to get a taste of your pussy.

it’s so fucking messy because rintarou’s the one who can’t stop asking to eat you out and push the cum back inside; you always say yes, then cum until you’re dizzy and can’t see straight.

you taste yourself from earlier on the corners of his lips when he bends forward and gives you a chaste kiss. “l-last time, okay? i’ll give you your brats, pretty girl.”

the sweet pout on your lips that’s quickly replaced with something else and wail of his name that leaves you when he starts jackhammering your pussy turns him on to the max.

incoherent babbling of what he’ll give you and how good you feel blend together, and before you can fully register it, rintarou’s folding forward with a deep groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard, i—”

he shuts up and gives you a few more thrusts before he’s pushing deep and cumming — he’s not done when he pulls out and covers your pussy in cum.

“r-rin, keep it inside,” you whine sadly, watching as he collects it on his tip and then plunges it back inside.

“jus’ needed some extra lube,” he says coolly, but he really just wants to cum all over you. “how’s it feel inside, pretty baby?”

“like i need some more.”

rintarou laughs at the way you turn away, cheeks hot in embarrassment because you were the one who wanted a break. “we are going out later, hm?”

your nod makes him smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “how about i cum in your panties and you walk around with ‘em?”

[boardgoats]

Essen 2023

Today is the final day of this edition of the largest games fair in Europe and arguably the world, the Internationale Spieltage.  Known to gamers worldwide simply as “SPIEL” or “Essen”, the annual fair is of particular significance as many new releases are scheduled to coincide with the event just in time for Christmas sales.  Following the recent change in management, this year there were quite…

[inkskinned]

i have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of the band's logo on your ribs. you got it when you were still kind of a kid. my first tattoo was a bird instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool.

my mom loves hallmark movies, so i grew up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one, after all. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. i thought that meant constant fighting was a good thing. i thought that meant love looked like a week of bickering, because it was worth the the weekend's boombox apology. i thought quiet love was boring. i thought love had to blot out everything, compel the body and the mind like puppetry. i thought love looks like ruining your own dinner table - but at least you set a feast.

but love looks like a scarf. your hands smoothing it down my chest, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about my asthma attacks being cold-activated. i race you while i'm wearing heels, you hold my hand to guide me downhill while walking my dog. we dance in my living room to waltz of the flowers, i show you how to hold your arms in proper ballet port de bras. you write a song about looking out of my window while the snow falls. i ask you to text my friends back while i'm driving. you play dj in the front seat. somewhere on route 93, we start murmuring about secret things.

oh. there is a difference between peace and dispassion. it was never that i feared quiet, it's that i didn't know what safe felt like. i liked the chaos because it was familiar, not because it was kind. i think i used to fear the word wife. i didn't like the idea of long, lonely days and being yelled at for small things. i didn't like the idea of sacrificing my one beautiful life.

you meet my friends and make a point to learn things about them. we both get excited about the other person's passions. you read my book for hours, squinting at the small words. i try to understand basic guitar information. we talk for four hours on the phone while i string together a garland. we talk for six hours while you write a poem. i save a pintrest tip for the summer about making paper kites. i plan us a week-long trip to maine, map out my favorite places for an eventual hike. you fall asleep on the ride home, and i turn down the radio so it won't wake you up. your quiet hands fold over mine.

when i look up, the stars are brighter. how carefully you've woven gold into the corners of my life. when i move, i feel some part of my soul reflected back onto you.

oh, love is not a net. it's a blanket.

[cornflowershade]

i love typing on a keyboard after i’ve recently done my nails it’s like- look at the new colors they’re going tappity tap!

[jarredspec]

Exploring the Gold mining ruins of the Karangahake gorge with the Fuji X100V

Watch the YouTube video

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹📘Number of part: 30/30

⊹ Words: 224 018 k

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words, scenes of violence, coercion, psychological pressure.

⊹ 🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi , @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie, @kooccult, @smokinghotstargirl , @curse-of-art, @curse-of-art2 @wintaemoonjen, @jungkookswifeeeeeee, @someonegoood, @kooko007, @indigomoonchild09, @zeytiable (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

⌖ Part 1. These fucking rules.

⌖ Part 2. In theory.

⌖ Part 3. The most real type.

⌖ Part 4. Taste of divine.

⌖ Part 5. Someone from the past.

⌖ Part 6. A school friend and an offer that's hard to refuse.

⌖ Part 7. A good student.

⌖ Part 8. That man driving the Mercedes.

⌖ Part 9. Knows what no one else knowing.

⌖ Part 10. Mine.

⌖ Part 11. Not your girlfriend. Not your boyfriend.

⌖ Part 12. Christmas trip to Niseko.

⌖ Part 13. Between despair and desire.

⌖ Part 14. A gift for Christmas.

⌖ Part 15. Who are you, Jungkook?

⌖ Part 16. Read my love.

⌖ Part 17. The flame of sympathy.

⌖ Part 18. Dangerous.

⌖ Part 19. Kidnapped under the glow of fireworks.

⌖ Part 20. House of Cards.

⌖ Part 21. The Dance of Souls on the Edge of the Abyss.

⌖ Part 22. Stop resisting. We are inevitable.

⌖ Part 23. The point of no return.

⌖ Part 24. The plan to destroy and the heart of the Queen. 

⌖ Part 25. Black Dust.

⌖ Part 26. Gold on the tip of the knife. 

⌖ Part 27. Under her heart is his future, behind their back is his past.

⌖ Part 28. Checkmate.

⌖ Part 29. Saved.

⌖ Part 30. A candy with the taste of revenge.

ˏˋ°���*⁀➷ ᰔᩚ Love Letter ᰔᩚ

[cloudyluun]

London Fever | neighbour!harry

Summary: Y/N moves into a high-end London apartment building, only to discover her new neighbor is Harry Styles—enigmatic, infuriating, and entirely too intoxicating. Their tension simmers beneath stolen glances, elevator encounters, and late-night mind games. But when she tries to break free from his spell with another man, Harry finally snaps—pinning her against her door with a dangerous confession.

He doesn’t like sharing.

And now, she’s in deep.

A/N: Me, writing this: Let’s keep it light, flirty, and fun! 😊Also me: What if he corners her in a hallway and says “I don’t like sharing” in a voice that ruins her entire life?

I am not responsible for any emotional distress caused by this man. He started it.

Part Two? Oh, you’re not ready. 😈

Wordt Count: 4,4k

Warnings: 

Explicit sexual tension (if that’s a warning or an invitation, I’ll let you decide)

Strong language (Harry has a sharp tongue in more ways than one)

Mutual pining & slow burn (this is torture, besties)

Jealousy & possessiveness (Harry is territorial, and it shows)

Masturbation scene (inspired by a voice that should be illegal)

Power plays & control games (who’s really in charge here? TBD)

Cliffhanger ending (because I love pain)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

That’s what I whispered to myself the moment I stepped into the apartment, dropping my suitcase onto the gleaming hardwood floor. The words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who had their life figured out. Someone who wasn’t running from the wreckage of a messy breakup and a mother who never thought she was good enough.

But this was it. My fresh start.

The apartment still smelled like my aunt—lavender and vanilla, soft and comforting—but the silence was heavy. I hadn’t been back here since I was a kid, when she used to let me sit on the balcony and sip cocoa like I was some high-society socialite. It was surreal to think that this place was mine now.

And it was beautiful. Sprawling windows, high ceilings, a ridiculous amount of space for one person. The kind of apartment people only dream about having in London. But right now? It didn’t feel like home. Not yet.

So I spent the next few weeks making it mine.

I painted over the muted beige walls with warm, inviting colors. Deep greens and soft creams that made the space feel less like a museum and more like a sanctuary. I filled the shelves with books I’d collected over the years, lined the windows with plants that I prayed wouldn’t die, and threw myself into decorating. Gold accents. A velvet couch. Candles in every corner. The kind of place that made you want to curl up with a glass of wine and pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

By the time I was done, it finally felt like I belonged here.

And then I saw him.

It was in the building’s lobby, late afternoon, when I ran down to grab a package the doorman had been holding for me. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, especially not him—tall, broad shoulders, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead, wearing black running shorts and a loose t-shirt that clung to his chest.

Harry. Fucking. Styles.

I nearly tripped over my own feet.

He barely glanced at me as he strolled past, his fingers brushing over his damp jawline, lost in whatever was playing through his headphones. The air shifted the moment he walked by—like he carried his own gravity, something that pulled people in whether they wanted it or not.

I swallowed hard, gripping my package like it was a life raft. Play it cool.

I turned toward the elevator, trying to ignore the way my pulse hammered in my throat. But before I could press the button, I caught him looking. Just a flicker. A half-second. But it was enough.

And I had the stupidest thought.

What if he knew my name?

The thought lingered long after I stepped into the elevator, my pulse still unsteady from that fleeting glance. He didn’t, of course. Why would he? He was Harry Styles. A global superstar. A man who had sold out stadiums and had the world at his feet. And I was just the new tenant, the girl fumbling her way through a fresh start.

Still, something about the way he’d looked at me stuck. Like a brief moment of recognition. Or curiosity.

I told myself I was imagining things.

Days passed without another sighting, and I let myself settle into a rhythm. Mornings were spent at the café down the street, afternoons arranging my bookshelves, nights curled up on my velvet couch with a glass of wine and a too-long list of unanswered texts from my mother.

I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before we ran into each other again.

It happened on a Wednesday. I had just come back from the grocery store, struggling under the weight of way too many bags, my arms aching as I fumbled for my key card in front of the elevator.

And then—a voice from behind me.

"Here, let me get that."

I turned, nearly dropping everything in the process.

Him.

Harry stood there, casual and effortless, one hand reaching out to hold the elevator door open. His curls were slightly tousled, damp like he’d just come from a shower, and he smelled faintly of something clean and expensive. His hoodie hung loose over his frame, sweatpants slung low on his hips.

My brain short-circuited for a second.

"I—uh—thanks," I stammered, stepping inside before my face could betray how flustered I felt.

He followed, standing at the opposite side of the elevator, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket.

The doors slid shut.

For a moment, silence.

Then—his voice, smooth and easy, breaking through the thick air between us.

"New here?"

I nodded, shifting the weight of my bags against my hip. "Just moved in."

His gaze lingered, traveling over me like he was committing me to memory. And then, that smirk. Just the faintest tilt of his lips before he looked away, dragging his fingers through his curls.

"That explains why I haven’t seen you before," he mused, almost to himself.

I swallowed. "Do you… know everyone in the building?"

"Not really," he admitted, glancing at me sideways. "But I would’ve remembered you."

My stomach flipped.

The air felt different now, charged with something I didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t flirting, not exactly, but there was a weight to his words. A casual observation laced with something else.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but then the elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors slid open onto my floor.

A breath. A pause.

"See you around, then," he murmured, watching me as I stepped out.

I nodded, still breathless, and the doors closed before I could say another word.

I stood there in the hallway for a long moment, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I would’ve remembered you.

I should’ve known that was just the beginning.

Because after that, I started seeing him everywhere.

In the lobby, when he’d nod in passing, lips curled in a knowing smirk. In the elevator, where the air always felt a little too thick, a little too charged. Even at the café down the street, where he’d slip in unnoticed, baseball cap pulled low, fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.

It was like once I’d noticed him, I couldn’t unnotice him.

And the worst part? I was starting to think he’d noticed me, too.

Maybe it was in the way his gaze lingered just a second too long. Or the way his smirk deepened whenever he caught me staring.

But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared me for what happened next.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when it happened.

Rain drummed lightly against the windows, the city still half-asleep, wrapped in a quiet kind of stillness. I had nowhere to be, nothing to do—so I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water melt away the lingering heaviness of the past few weeks.

By the time I stepped out, steam curled thick in the air, my skin flushed from the heat. A towel was loosely wrapped around my body, barely hanging on as I padded across the hardwood floor toward my closet.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t even glance at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that framed my bedroom.

Didn’t consider that my apartment was directly across from someone else’s.

I just stood there, half-draped in a towel, fingers carding through my damp hair, completely oblivious.

Until I felt it.

A presence.

That unmistakable prickle of being watched.

My heart stilled.

Slowly—so slowly—I turned toward the window.

And there he was.

Harry.

Standing on his balcony, coffee cup frozen mid-air, gaze locked onto me.

A dark flicker passed through his eyes, something unreadable, something that sent a sharp, unexpected thrill straight through me.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us looked away.

I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve yanked the towel tighter, turned around, done something.

But I didn’t.

Instead, my grip on the fabric loosened slightly, breath caught in my throat as the realization sank in—he wasn’t looking away.

His jaw ticked.

Fingers tightened around the handle of his mug.

And then, his lips twitched, just the faintest flicker of amusement, a slow, knowing curve before he finally—finally—tore his gaze away.

I exhaled shakily, pulse hammering, my skin suddenly burning for an entirely different reason.

I didn’t know what the hell had just happened.

But one thing was certain.

This… this was dangerous.

Because now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way his gaze had burned through the distance between our apartments. The slow, deliberate way his lips had curled—not in shock, not in embarrassment—but in something far more dangerous.

Amusement.

As if he’d caught me in a game I hadn’t even realized I was playing.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to stop.

In the days that followed, I kept catching him looking.

It started small—fleeting glances in the hallway when we passed each other. A slow drag of his eyes up my legs, a flicker of a smirk when he caught me watching him in return.

Then there were the elevator rides, where the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken. The way his fingers flexed when they brushed against the metal railing, the way he shifted just slightly closer when the doors slid shut.

One night, I was up late, sipping on a glass of wine on the rooftop terrace, letting the London skyline blur into a haze of city lights and half-formed thoughts.

And then—I felt it.

That unmistakable pull.

When I turned, I found him leaning against the railing, a cigarette perched between his fingers, watching me.

Not just in passing.

Not just out of curiosity.

But waiting.

The realization sent a shiver straight through me.

He wanted me to notice.

Wanted me to know that he was watching—that he was paying attention.

And I couldn’t tell if that made me want to run… or take a step closer.

It all came to a head in the elevator.

I’d just come back from a late-night grocery run, arms full, juggling my keys, my phone, and a bag that was already threatening to slip.

The doors slid open, and there he was.

Harry.

Dressed in a loose sweater and sweats, hair damp, like he’d just come from the shower.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then, with a lazy smirk, he reached out and held the door open, stepping back to let me in.

I muttered a breathless, "Thanks."

The doors slid shut.

And suddenly, we were alone.

The space felt smaller. The air thicker.

I shifted my bags in my arms, but one of them tilted—a carton of blueberries slipping free, scattering onto the floor.

“Shit,” I breathed, bending down quickly to grab them.

Big mistake.

Because the moment I crouched, I became acutely aware of how little space there was between us.

How close he was standing.

How his scent curled around me—something fresh, something expensive, something uniquely him.

My pulse hammered.

I reached for a berry just as he did, our fingers brushing.

Lingering.

And then, in the heavy silence, I heard it.

A low chuckle.

When I looked up, his gaze was already on me, dark, knowing, entirely too amused.

I swallowed hard.

“Need some help?”

His voice was low, dangerously smooth, like he already knew the answer.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Because this…

This wasn’t just a glance anymore.

This was a game.

And I had the sinking feeling I was already losing.

Because now, I wasn’t just thinking about him in passing.

Now, he was under my skin.

Now, every glance, every smirk, every moment of lingering silence between us was a loaded gun—cocked, ready, just waiting for someone to pull the trigger.

And maybe I was tired of pretending I didn’t want to.

Maybe I was done pretending at all.

!!!!

Because ever since that night in the elevator, something had shifted.

The way he looked at me lingered a fraction too long. The smirk he gave me every time we passed in the hallway felt a little too knowing.

Like he was waiting for me to slip.

And maybe I already had.

Because now, late at night, wrapped in the comfort of my own sheets, I was thinking about him.

Dangerous. Reckless. I didn’t care.

I poured myself a glass of wine, the rich red swirling in the dim glow of my bedside lamp. The city outside my window was alive, but in here—my apartment, my sanctuary—everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

I reached for my phone, flicking through my playlist until I found it.

His voice.

It was intentional.

I pressed play.

The song was slow, velvet-smooth, the kind that curled around my body and sank into my bloodstream.

The first note slipped through the speaker, and instantly, a shiver ran through me.

I exhaled, letting the tension ease from my body as I slid lower beneath the covers, my fingers trailing absently down my stomach.

Soft.

Light.

Teasing.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But God, I wanted to.

His voice was everywhere, thick with longing, smooth like honey and sin, and I let it pull me under.

My thighs clenched as my hand wandered lower, fingers grazing sensitive skin, sending a ripple of pleasure up my spine.

Fuck.

I wasn’t quiet.

I didn’t want to be.

Because some part of me—some reckless, shameless part—wanted him to hear.

The thought sent a fresh wave of heat straight through me.

I pressed deeper, my breath catching as I found just the right rhythm, matching the lazy, sultry beat of his voice.

The apartment felt hot, suffocating, like he was here. Watching. Waiting.

My body arched, chasing that edge, my own whimpers slipping past my lips, louder now, unrestrained.

I imagined his hands instead of mine. His mouth.

And that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed over me, my back bowing, my breath catching on his name.

I didn’t hold back.

Didn’t muffle the sound.

Let him know exactly what I had done.

Exactly who I had done it for.

The air in my room felt thick as I lay there, heart pounding, skin flushed.

Fuck.

What the hell had I just done?

The next morning, I stepped out of my apartment, still half-dazed, still buzzing from the night before.

And then I froze.

Because he was there.

Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, waiting.

Harry.

His curls were a little messy, his sweatpants hung low on his hips, and that smirk—that goddamn smirk—was already in place.

He dragged his gaze over me, slow and deliberate.

My breath caught.

He knows.

I knew it the moment he tilted his head, the moment his smirk deepened into something dangerous.

And then—

"Sleep well?"

His voice was low, teasing, laced with pure, unfiltered amusement.

I was absolutely, completely fucked.

That morning had changed everything.

He knew.

He knew.

And he made damn sure I knew that he knew.

The looks lingered longer. The smirks deepened. The air between us crackled with something unspoken but dangerous.

Every time we passed in the hallway, I felt his gaze skim over me, dragging heat in its wake.

Every time I stepped onto the rooftop terrace, he was there—watching, waiting, nursing a drink with that look in his eyes.

And then, one week later, fate decided to be cruel.

Because the elevator broke down.

With both of us inside.

It started out normal.

I had just gotten back from dinner—one of those “welcome to London” outings that my coworker insisted on. One glass of wine turned into three, and suddenly, my dress felt too tight and my skin felt too hot.

I just wanted to get home.

I stepped into the elevator, mind already wandering, and didn’t notice him until the doors slid shut.

Harry.

In a suit.

I swallowed hard.

I had seen him in a hundred different ways now. Sweaty from a jog. Shirtless on his balcony. In casual hoodies and ripped jeans.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

The black jacket was tailored to perfection, framing his broad shoulders. The white shirt underneath was undone just enough to hint at golden skin and a delicate silver cross resting against his chest.

He smelled like spice and cedarwood, a scent that curled around me in the small space, making my head spin.

I felt his eyes on me before I even looked up.

Dragging down my bare legs, lingering on the snug fit of my dress, pausing at the way the fabric clung to my curves.

I pressed the button for my floor.

The elevator jolted. Then stopped.

A small, dangerous silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, pressing the button again. Nothing.

My heart kicked up.

His voice, low and amused, broke the silence.

“Locked in, are we?”

I turned my head to look at him.

He was already looking at me.

I licked my lips. Bad move.

Because his gaze dipped to my mouth, and my stomach tightened.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus.

“Looks like it.”

I shifted slightly, the air suddenly too thick, too warm.

He leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossing over his chest, watching me with that smirk.

Like he was enjoying this.

Like he had been waiting for this.

“You like playing games, don’t you?”

The words were soft, but they slid over my skin like a touch.

I blinked up at him, heart hammering.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

My back met the cool surface of the elevator wall.

His scent filled my lungs, woodsy and warm, and I bit the inside of my cheek as his fingers grazed the metal railing beside my hip.

Not touching me.

But close enough that my breath hitched.

I should say something.

I should do something.

But the moment stretched, hot and charged, and I realized—

This isn’t a game anymore.

It should have been. It should have been a passing attraction, a fleeting thrill—just the consequence of living next door to someone too charming for his own good.

But the way he looked at me in that elevator? The way he let the silence stretch, let the tension coil so tight it stole my breath?

That wasn’t a game.

That was something else.

And when the elevator finally lurched back to life, when the doors slid open and I all but ran out, Harry stayed behind—his gaze heavy on my back, the weight of unspoken words pressing into my spine.

It happened a few nights later.

The storm came out of nowhere.

One second, the evening sky was a deep, velvety blue, the next, rain came crashing down, drenching the city in a relentless downpour.

I had made the mistake of walking to the small café down the street, my coat hanging loosely over my shoulders, a book tucked under my arm.

By the time I sprinted back inside the lobby, I was soaked through.

My dress clung to me like a second skin, damp fabric trailing down my thighs. My hair dripped against my shoulders, cold water sliding between my shoulder blades.

I shivered.

And then I saw him.

Harry.

Leaning against the sleek marble counter, phone in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips.

His emerald gaze flickered over me—slow and deliberate. Taking me in.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my stomach tightened.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he murmured, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

My pulse jumped.

I scowled, wringing out my sleeves. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

Just stood there, watching.

And I knew—this was dangerous.

Because Harry liked this.

Liked the way my breath hitched, the way my body responded to him before I could even think.

And the worst part?

So did I.

I didn’t think when I followed him.

Didn’t question it when he gestured toward the hallway, when my feet moved before my brain could catch up.

By the time I realized where we were, I was already inside his apartment.

And God, it was warm.

Dim lighting. Soft music. The scent of cedarwood and something undeniably him.

I hovered near the door, my breath uneven.

Why was I here?

He disappeared for a moment, returning with a white towel. Holding it out.

I hesitated.

Then reached for it.

Our fingers brushed.

And it was like a spark, like static curling up my spine.

I sucked in a breath, knuckles brushing his wrist as I clutched the towel between us.

His jaw tensed.

I knew then—I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

He felt it too.

The air between us thickened, pulling me closer like a current, like gravity.

He was looking at me.

Not just looking. Watching. Memorizing.

His lips parted slightly, breath steady but controlled. His hands flexed by his sides, like he was holding back.

I shivered again, but not from the cold.

My pulse pounded in my throat, something deep and primal settling in my stomach.

I didn’t stop him when he stepped closer.

Didn’t pull away when his fingers lifted, trailing up my bare arm.

I tilted my chin.

Our faces inched together, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.

Close enough that his breath ghosted over my lips.

And just when I thought he was going to do it—just when my heart stopped completely—

He pulled away.

“Not yet.”

His voice was low, rough.

Like it cost him something to stop.

Like he wanted this just as badly as I did.

And then he stepped back.

Leaving me breathless, burning, and utterly wrecked.

That was the only way to describe it.

The heat of his touch lingered long after he pulled away. The ghost of his breath still kissed my skin, and I hated how much I wanted more.

Not yet.

The words curled around my thoughts, tightening like a vice.

He had been holding back.

Not because he didn’t want to kiss me.

Because he wanted to wait.

Because he thought he was in control.

As if this was on his terms.

As if I would sit around, biting my lip and twirling my hair, waiting for him to decide when.

I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because if I spent one more night lying awake in bed, skin too hot, pulse too erratic, mind filled with thoughts of him—

His touch. His voice. His mouth—

I was going to lose it.

So, I made a decision. A reckless one.

I said yes to the date.

Alex.

Blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Charming, in a practiced kind of way.

He was polite. Sweet. Held doors open and paid for my dinner without hesitation.

He was everything I should want.

And yet, as he sat across from me at the candlelit restaurant, talking about his job in finance, I found myself drifting.

I stirred my wine glass, barely hearing his words, mind stuck on someone else entirely.

On emerald green eyes.

On dimly lit elevators and the smell of spice and cedarwood.

On a voice lower than a whisper, pressing against my skin.

You like playing games, don’t you?

A shiver rippled down my spine.

Not from Alex.

Never from him.

I forced a smile, nodding along as he spoke, but the restlessness inside me only grew stronger.

It ached.

And when the night finally ended, when he walked me back toward my building with a lingering glance, I knew what was coming next.

A kiss.

I should have let him.

I should have leaned in, let my lips brush against his, let myself pretend for just a little while longer.

But something in my stomach twisted.

Something inside me revolted.

Because no matter how hard I tried—

It wasn’t Harry.

And it never would be.

So, I pulled back.

Mumbled an excuse.

Stepped inside my building—

And froze.

Because he was there.

Harry.

Waiting.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the golden glow of overhead sconces, but I could still see every detail.

His shirt slightly rumpled.

His tie loosened around his throat, like he had been waiting a while.

A slow prickle ran down my spine.

I swallowed hard, pulse hammering as he watched me.

Not speaking. Not moving.

Just watching.

His gaze flickered past me, out toward the glass doors—toward Alex.

Something in his expression shifted.

Something cold.

Sharp.

Possessive.

“Fun night?”

His voice was casual.

Too casual.

But there was an edge to it. A razor-sharp tension that cut straight through me.

I lifted my chin, pushing past the sudden tightness in my throat.

I smirked. “Very.”

His eyes darkened.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

I could feel the tension in the air, stretching tight between us.

Like a wire about to snap.

I took a step closer, tilting my head, poking at the bear.

“Why do you care?”

That was a mistake.

Because before I could blink, before I could even breathe—

He moved.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

Then another.

Until my back hit the door.

Until he was so close that I could feel his breath against my cheek.

The heat of his body just inches from mine.

The scent of spice and cedarwood, wrapping around me, making it impossible to think.

My stomach tightened, a pulse thrumming at the base of my throat.

This was new.

Harry had always watched. Always teased.

But he had never touched.

Not like this.

Not with his fingers tracing my jaw, with his body caging me in, with his lips hovering so, so close.

His emerald gaze flickered over me, slow and dangerous.

He studied me like he was memorizing something.

Like he was committing every single detail to memory.

I could barely breathe.

His thumb brushed against my cheek.

Featherlight.

A touch so delicate it made my knees weak.

Made my mind spin.

Then, his lips parted, voice dropping into something low and lethal.

“Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, tone dripping with something dark.

Something possessive.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

Forcing me to see the heat in his eyes.

The warning.

“I don’t like sharing.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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[achilles-rage]

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid. 

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her. 

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his. 

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time. 

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways. 

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again. 

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her. 

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together. 

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour. 

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him. 

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!” 

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy. 

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

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[the-flaneur]

the enemy of my friend is my enemy, but he's also his own worst enemy? so he's my friend? (nr6) | pt1

pairing: nico rosberg x hamilton!reader [smau]

summary: in an attempt to plan a surprise birthday party for your brother's 39th birthday, you enlist the help of his ex-??? to get into his apartment

warnings: none (i think)

a/n: unfortunately, there are too many pics so pls await pt2 😙

[masterlist] [requests]

-> instagram

y/n.hamilton

liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg, mavxverstappen1 and others

y/n.hamilton guess who's backkkkkk....IT'S BRITNEY B*TCH 👀✌️

view all comments

user1 omg omg omg omg GUYSSSSSS i have been waiting for this day the entire year... SHE'S FINALLY BACK IN MONACO!!!

user2 i'm also in monaco rn, istg the stars are alinging for me to meet her !!!! 🤩 user 3 BRUHHHHH i wish that was me 😃😃😃 user4 i wonder why she's back though? user5 idk yk maybe to go see HER BROTHER WHO LIVES IN MONACO MAYBE???? 🙄

user6 i hope she hangs out with all the other drivers 😍 she wasn't at any of the gps this year

user7 i mean they're not really her friends, besides she was really busy this year user8 DID YOU JUST SAY THEY'RE NOT HER FRIENDS??? user7 i mean she's not the one driving in f1 is she 😐 user9 brother was not here for the grid x y/n shenanigans back in the 2010's user10 her and mark absolutely roasting the crap out of fernando and jenson for the grid penalty is still comedy gold user11 she basically adopted the entire grid after 2016, they're her babies 🤨 LIKED by maxverstappen1

lewishamilton i was not made aware of this????

y/n.hamilton sorryyyyy late flight arrangements???? 🥺👉👈 lewishamilton ok but where are you staying. i'll cancel it, you can just stay in my apartment y/n.hamilton no it's ok, i'm already staying with a friend :D lewishamilton wait whO lewishamilton don't IGNORE ME I KNOW YOU'RE STILL ONLINE user12 y/nnnnn 😭😭😭 user13 your honour they're literally the cutest yet most sibling siblings ever like girlie pop 🥲

user14 anyone else like see the nico rosberg like...or was that just me?

user15 ??? user14 ok maybe it was just me... lewishamilton what....? user16 bro's going detective mode now

friend1 Y/NNIEEEEE PLS GET ME SOME MORE CHOCOLATE FOR THE CAKE

y/n.hamilton shhhhhh you're ruining it already bro friend1 oopsie oh yeah, i forgot he actually follows you lmfao y/n.hamilton 💀 girlie plsssssss get some brain cells friend1 you stole all of mine :P user17 🤨🤨

-> instagram

y/n.hamilton

liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg, mavxverstappen1 and others

y/n.hamilton roscoe with his favourite auntieeee ❤️

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user18 GIRLIE AINT FOOLING ANYONE FOR A SECOND, WHO IS THAT MAN IN THE SECOND SLIDE

user19 wait what???? ur kidding, ur kidding - i am not seeing no man there? user20 roscoe's looking extra cute today ☺️ user21 him in that last slide looking at y/n is devious side eye user22 @/user18 BROTHER I GOT U, THERE IS NO WAY THAT'S Y/N'S LEG user23 also y/n would not be caught dead wearing chinos in bed, it's def a man 👀

user24 OK BUT THE REAL QUESTION IS WHO??? CAUSE LEWIS IS IN PARIS SO....

user25 nahhh it's for sure whoever y/n's seeing, no way would lewis let a random stranger near his child user26 i thought y/n's been single for a while??? she got a new boo? user27 idk maybe, i mean she's been pretty out of the spotlight this year, i wouldn't be surprised

user28 ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE THE NICO ROSBERG LIKE???

user29 NO CAUSE LIKE HE ALSO LIKED HER LAST POST, ANDDDD THIS IS LIKE THE FIRST TIME POST-BROCEDES FALLOUT 😨 user30 guys i think lewis might just implode if he thinks that's nico rosberg sitting with roscoe user31 seeing by his silence, i think he already has...

maxverstappen1 can charles, lando i swing by after padel practice 😄 we wanna say hi

y/n.hamilton to me or the baby? 😔 maxverstappen1 im not abandoning my grid mum like this 🤨 only lando would, considering he's ruining the wdc narrative arc right now user32 y/n and max in 2016 was peak, especially after spain 😭 AHHHHHHH I MISS HER AT THE PADDOCK SO MUCH landonorris you snooze you lose verstappen, but i would also never abandon y/n :( y/n.hamilton lando.... landonorris i let him have the padel point mother 🥲

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