Summary; There's Little Time Between Fast Cars And Spaceships, But You Make It Work

Hello, I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿 I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏 💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship. Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨

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asking for a friend ofc, but would yall prefer sub!punz or sub!Karl for the next smut?

hi. go buy esims for gaza. go preorder a kufiya from hirbawi. buy insulin for palestinian diabetics who need that help. if you live in the states use this to email your reps (this takes maybe 5 seconds to do). check out this massive list of resources where you can educate yourself in a meaningful and actionable way even if you don't have the financial means right now. from the river to the sea palestine will be free. 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

smells like team spirit part1

Pairing; Jock!Roommate!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem reader

Summary; Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. Rich. Handsome. Star lacrosse player for his university. Pretending you, his roommate, is his girlfriend so his teammates stop taking the piss out of him for never being in a relationship-wait what?

Warnings; 18+, everything on my blog is 18+, however this chapter only has some strong language and some slightly inappropriate thoughts!

(a/n) y'all!!! v v proud of this, i know quite a few of you have already read this on ao3 but since i have set plan for it/the number of chapters, i'll be posting here as well!!!

Word count; 3.8k

Ah, university. 

The time to explore your twenties, to meet likeminded people, drink until your body can’t take it, experiment with drugs, lie to your parents about how many lectures you attend and generally have the time of your life. 

The dorm halls were packed with students forgetting about their luggage so they could go out as soon as possible, guys already reeking of cheap alcohol and Simon battled his past his fair share of drunken crying students outside pubs on his way to his apartment building. So yes, uni is the time where you’re supposed to live it up and experiment, to have a raucous time and pretty much go wild, a mantra that runs through Simon’s head as he stands in his silent apartment, miles away from the nearest student accommodation. 

It’s…peaceful, he supposes. 

He won’t have to worry about the nightmare roommates he always hears about, about people he doesn’t know stealing his food or annoying the landlord, shagging so loud they keep him awake or not respecting his privacy. He’ll be peaceful, yeah, it’ll be nice.

It’s nice for about three hours.

Simon unpacks his suitcases, puts his things haphazardly into the cupboards and his closet, browses the streaming services and has a shower. And then he sits on the sofa and stares at the wall.

He’d opened a window earlier and voices float up to it, on whichever stupidly high floor his dad chose this apartment on. They sound quite drunk like most other people he’s seen tonight, about a week into the beginning of the term and everywhere brimming with freshers. He keeps forgetting he’s a fresher, to be honest. Being a few years older seems to have that effect, he doesn’t feel like the baby faced eighteen year olds that can finally drink legally and feel the need to get blackout drunk at every opportunity. He’s been there, done that and had the embarrassing hungover regretful mornings to prove it. 

Getting into lacrosse helped, gave him a reason to stop drinking into oblivion, to get up earlier in the mornings and actually take care of his body-and it got him where he is now, into uni, so that’s a plus. 

He looks out of the window and down at the bumbling group of freshers walking past his building, one on the verge of falling into the road. One of them screams happily and he winces, closing the window and turning back to his empty apartment. 

Peaceful yes, but, well, too peaceful.

It’s depressingly silent, empty and lonely. Not really what he wants his new life at uni to be like. 

It’s too sleek and shiny as well, modern all black and white and grey everywhere. The sofa isn’t comfortable it’s stiff and too low, the coffee table is glass and already smudged from the one thing he put down earlier, the appliances in the kitchen are all silver and black, the counters white and the floors so shiny they’re slippery. It’s so…desolate. Devoid of any personality and character, more like a showroom than somewhere he’s actually meant to live.

Simon sinks back onto the couch and listens vaguely to doors slamming in his building. He can hear the muffled sounds of friends and partners walking up the stairs outside his door and stares at the wall again. Eventually the stairwell and hallways fall silent and he’s still sat there, also in silence. 

He takes a long look at the closed door of the second bedroom that he hasn’t touched, huffs, and gets up to grab some paper.

-

We sincerely apologise for the delay in your admission paperwork, do let us know if we can assist you in any way from this point forward. Below is a list of the accommodation options our students can choose from, we hope you find something suitable-

A list is all well and good if any of those accommodation options actually have any damn room. Which they do not.

It’s lovely getting into your first choice uni, an absolute dream that many people do not achieve-and on a scholarship as well, but it certainly becomes less of a dream when you’re not told they have admitted you for two months after they should have so you have to find accommodation. And now you have to make the commute to uni almost every day because there’s nowhere to live, unsurprisingly.

It’s been a bit of whirlwind for you, from dealing with an apparent rejection from your top choice, to accepting you’ll be going to your second choice, to the struggle for finding accommodation, to suddenly finding out that you have actually been admitted to your top choice, making the whiplash choice to attend even though you don’t have accommodation and then fully realising the weight of what that means after you did your commute the first time. 

It’s been about a week, and it has not gotten better. Worse, actually, if you think about the old guy who flashed you on the train yesterday morning. 

You remind yourself that it’s worth it though, as you walk into the university building, work clutched under your arm and hopes high. You got a scholarship after all, you can do this. 

You’re good enough to be here, to deserve a place here-so you most certainly aren’t going to waste it. Now to just remind yourself of that when you get back home and it’s already dark.

The hours between your lectures aren’t too much fun either, when you just have to hang around campus because you don’t have anywhere to go apart from the communal spaces that are already teeming with students and annoyingly loud groups of technically teenagers who forget these spaces are actually for doing work. 

It only took your second day of sitting in this bustling space while you tried to focus on your work to realise that maybe a job might help, so each day your first action has been to check the noticeboard for any postings. 

And there’s been fuckall. 

Well, that’s not quite true-there was a listing for a barista in a local coffee shop just around the corner, but when you went in to ask some more about it the manager had told you the pay rate (less than the legal minimum wage), the hours (more than your uni classes and workload put together) and then a fight had broken out between two employees behind the counter. 

You’d declined the ‘informal chat’ he had offered to see if you might be a good fit. 

Today there’s a few new flyers, one for a local church group, one for a non profit volunteer group cleaning the streets and one for a political candidate for something or other. That one is…decorated, let’s say, quite heavily. 

In the corner of the board there’s a small new one as well, less a flyer and more a ripped piece of tatty paper, ink smudged a little and pinned haphazardly to the cork. 

In need of a roommate, bedroom 22 square meters plus en suite, full access to living room and kitchen, both rooms only shared with one other person-rent negotiable, text if you’re interested:

The number underneath makes you pause, wondering how many dick pics they’ve gotten. 

Putting your number out there, no indication of your gender or anything? Surefire way to get something dodgy.

As you stare at the advert, you can’t deny it looks a little dodgy itself. No personal details, not even phrased in a particularly polite or friendly way, and it seems, unfortunately, far too good to be true. 

Twenty two square meters plus an en suite. That’s far better than anything you looked at months ago when you first applied to uni if you’re being honest, and only having one roommate seems like heaven on earth.

But it’s dodgy. Too dodgy. Right?

You shouldn’t. Definitely not. It could be some sort of creep waiting to lure you into a basement. It could be a psycho or just the worst roommate on the planet. 

But.

Twenty two entire square meters. Ensuite. Living room and kitchen with only one other person. Rent negotiable. 

Craning your neck to see the place you were planning to sit, you sigh as your bag gets moved clumsily from the table to a chair vaguely near it so a group of seven can cram onto it. 

Turning back to the scruffy bit of paper, you pull out your phone. Nothing to lose, really.

-

Hey, I saw your ad for an available bedroom, rent negotiable? I’d love to chat about it or take a look if it’s still going, please let me know if it is or not! Thank you :)

Well, that’s a nice change from the two dick pics he woke up to this morning. 

One was actually someone holding a beer bottle next to their dick, and he knows that brand. It’s a little impressive to be honest, those bottles aren’t small. 

He’d blocked them though, and pretty quickly given up hope that his little advert would attract the right kind of attention, so this is a nice surprise. He really doesn’t even need this to be honest, that’s why he said the rent was negotiable. Money isn’t the issue, but he doesn’t think he can deal with the eery emptiness and coldness of this apartment.

Another look around the echoey, impractical place is enough for him to open the text and start typing, inviting you to come over this afternoon and have a look and sending you the address.

-

It’s only a few minutes before the time he gave you when he realises it might not have been his wisest idea, inviting a complete stranger over to his place with no one else present. Not his best decision to be honest, but you’ll be here in a second so he doesn’t have long to think about it.

There’s a knock on his door just as he debates this, so not even as long as he thinks apparently.

Slightly more nervous than he was last night when he put the advert up and when he texted you, Simon wrings his hands as he gets up to open the door. He peers through the peephole just before he turns the handle, jolting in surprise for a second at you. 

You’re not quite what he thought-more, well, female, to be honest. He doesn’t exactly know why but he wasn’t expecting a woman really, he supposes as he moves to open the door that he kind of just thought guys were more likely to have forgotten about or been lazy with their accommodation. Time to unpack that little bit of minor sexism later on probably.

You smile politely when he opens the door, and his eyes are too busy trailing over you to notice the way you glance at his broad frame before looking back at his face. 

When he looks back up to your face, he can see the curiosity in your eyes as you take in the scar. It’s something he tries not to think about, the long pinkish jagged line that stretches over one side of his face. It cuts through his eyebrow and over his cheek, leaving a dent in his upper lip where it ends. Your gaze only lingers for a split second before flicking back up to his eyes though, and he tries to put it out of his mind. 

“Uh-hi-is this-this is the apartment with the ad right? I’m at the right place?” His eyes snap back to yours after drifting down a little and your voice is sweet and polite, wavering a little as you glance behind him into the apartment a little. 

He stumbles back a step or two, widening the door and waving you over the threshold, noting the way you also wring your hands nervously. Maybe not the only one anxious about being here alone. A wave of your perfume floats up to him as you walk past and he stares at the wall blankly, mind going quiet for a couple of seconds at how enticing the scent is. It’s not incredibly strong, not very artificial either-more like your perfume has worn off during the day and now a few notes of it are mingling with your natural scent. It’s delicious, subtle and soft and enticing and his head turns to catch more of it and-no, no, he can’t be thinking like that when you’ve only just walked into the apartment. 

Get a grip-

“Yes yeah this is the place-” Simon talks as he shuts the door and leads you further down the hall, indicating the kitchen on his left and living room in front. “You’re the first person who’s shown any serious interest so it’s still available, this is the kitchen and I mean, pretty standard-it’s got all the appliances you’d need I think. Coffee machine in the corner there, microwave is above the toaster, the hob has four rings so if you’re one of those people we can have two rings each or whatever,” he says as he waves his hand generically at the room. 

A quick glance at you shows him your wide eyed expression, hands in your pockets and staring at him. 

He coughs awkwardly.

“That’s-I mean that’s if you were to take the room and..move in, yknow, if you wanted to after I show you everything-everywhere-you don’t have to of course, but-yeah just-if you…wanted to…” Simon trails off lamely, cheeks beginning to flush a little as you furrow your brows at his anxious tirade. One person interested in this room and he’s about to scare them off. Great.

He stares at you for a second, seeing if you’ll respond, but when you don’t he turns and walks to the living room, pressing his lips together and cursing himself. 

“This is the living room-obviously-if you were to take the room you could decorate and do whatever, I have no preferences. If you wanted to do anything huge or add something big or weird or whatever then ask me about it obviously, but I don’t know like if you wanted to put books on the shelves or vases or anything-” 

“It is a little…bland, I have to admit. Very monochrome,” you say, almost nervously, and he looks back at you in surprise at your voice. The second thing you say and you’re agreeing with him about how shitty the room is? Brilliant. 

It seems the happy surprise on his face doesn’t translate properly and your eyes get even wider, hands coming up placatingly as you ramble on, “Not-not that monochrome is bad it can be nice-it IS nice I just-what I meant was I tend to have quite colourful stuff I decorate my walls a lot and-it’s nice the room is good! I only-”

“The room is shit.” Simon says, interrupting you flatly and enjoying the small smile that overtakes your features instead of the panic that was there before. 

“It’s not the greatest thing I’ve ever seen, I’ll admit. Sorry to trash your apartment it is lovely it’s just-well, yeah it’s like entirely black and white.”

He turns to look at the room, trying to spot any kind of colour. He doesn’t. 

Lips curving up, he looks back at you, already feeling warm at the small glimmer of friendship sparking at the expense of his shitty apartment. A rich persons shitty, the kind of shitty only money can buy because it was top of the range and they thought it meant good.

“You can decorate however you want, don’t worry-if you wanted to add some, or a fuckton of colour I would be pretty happy about it. Like I said if you were gonna do something crazy like a-a mural of dicks on the wall or-”

“A mural of dicks?!?” Your voice is incredulous, hands frozen in midair where you pulled them from your pockets. 

“Yes don’t do that,” Simon pushes down the little bubble of pride that wells up in him at your laugh, “-but like you can paint or put posters up or replace this fucking uncomfortable sofa or whatever if you decide to stay-”

You chuckle again at him and he fights the response his body seems to be having to it, turning to lead you to the bedroom you’ll be-MIGHT be staying in. 

“And this would be your room. As I said on the ad, about 22 square meters, en suite through the door over there, obviously you can see you’ve got a bed, mattress, wardrobe and bedside table but you can get rid of or bring whatever you like. You’re welcome to put up shelves and stuff if you want as well, probably run it by me just in case but I’m sure it’ll all be fine.” 

He looks around the room as he speaks, and is surprised to see your eyes are on him when he turns around. You look slightly confused, like you’re trying to work something out.

“Do you like…own this place, or something?” 

His polite smile falters a little at your question, mind flipping through the memories of how he got this apartment.

“I-sort of, my dad does really, but I-he doesn’t care about what I do with it much so yeah you can do what you want really, put up whatever-” Simon waves his hand vaguely at the room again, unsure what to say next and mostly just hoping you get the hint. 

An expression crosses your face that he can’t quite decipher, but you quickly cover it up and walk into the room, looking around at the space.

He watches you carefully, trying to figure out if he could live with you all year. Maybe you would steal his food, maybe you would bring guys and girls back and bang so loud he doesn’t sleep all night. Maybe you'll walk around nude all the time and tell him you’re just a free spirit as he tries to keep his eyes above tit-level. 

That thought jolts him a little, and he realising his eyes have been slowly trailing down your body as you wander toward the en suite at the back of the room. Okay, maybe there would be different issues if you moved in. Could he live with you all year and see you in any skimpy pyjamas you might own, see you in a towel when you’re fresh out of the shower, have to sit there while you bring over partners you might have, see you in the mornings rubbing sleep from your eyes and looking like you just wandered out of bed? 

Simon clears his throat and averts his eyes, cursing the fact he’s never lived with a girl before. His lack of relationships has never been more apparent, he thinks bitterly. 

Belatedly he realises you’re talking to him from inside the bathroom and he takes a few steps into the room, coughing and asking you to repeat it.

“So-dare I ask what you meant by rent ‘negotiable’?” 

His heart picks up it’s pace for a second, body suddenly a little warm at the fact you sound like you might actually be properly interested, like you’re really debating it, like sooner rather than later he might actually be living with you.

He shrugs even though you can’t see him. “As I said this place is kind of my dad’s, so money isn’t a huge issue, but it’s, well, it’s too big for me.” Simon ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks start going pink, mind racing as he tries to figure out how to make that sound…not pathetic. “And-and I mean it seems a little selfish to keep it to myself when people are looking for accommodation right? So it’s-yeah it’s negotiable it’s not like I’d have to charge anything too steep there’s no point, if you want to take it I can figure it out and let you know?” 

His eyes dart to yours sheepishly, almost like he’s looking for confirmation that it’s the right answer to your question. 

The expression on your face is inscrutable, he can’t tell what you’re thinking and shifts to lean against the door frame restlessly. 

“Better figure it out soon then, if you’ll have me I’ll take it. How soon can I move in?” 

A grin breaks out across his face before he can tamper it down, body relaxing and a rush of breath escaping him in relief. 

-

You end up moving in over the next few days, with Simon peering out the window at a truck where a guy helps you move a few suitcase out of the back of it. Before he registers it he’s bounding down the stairs and trying not to trip over his own feet in his haste to get there, taking a gulping breath and watching your amused expression as he offers you help with your stuff. 

It’s nice, getting to know you a little bit. He helps bring your stuff up and then unpack a few things after asking if you need anything, and he learns about the mishap with your admission. A scholarship student, like him, you’ve brought more books for this term than he thinks he’ll read in the next two years, you took a couple of years out as well, and according to your schedules you’ll hardly run into each other anyway. 

In return he tells you about his lacrosse, that he spent the last few years training and bettering his skills at the sport, and he got in on a scholarship as well for it. He assures you there won’t be any sweaty sports kit lying around in the communal spaces or where it would disturb you, and he has to press his lips together when you laugh in response. 

He helps you shove your empty suitcases onto the top of your wardrobe, thanking god he’s taller than you and then trying to ignore how happy he is about it, before he pauses in your doorway to remind you that anything you need, any questions about the apartment or anything-he’s right next door.

Simon lays in bed that night as he listens to you rustling around next door, no doubt situating yourself and putting everything in its proper place. He’d opened one of your suitcases to help you unpack earlier and caught a glimpse of something lacy before you snagged the bag and shoved a different one his way, coughing awkwardly. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. He won’t. 

Turning over in bed, he banishes the thought from his mind, vowing to himself that he’s not going to be stupid and develop a crush on his new roommate. Instead, he’ll maybe just…become friends with you. That seems possible. He can totally do that, at the very least he’ll have someone else in the apartment and a bit of personality around so it’s not so dreary, and maybe you guys can hang out or just chat every once in a while.

Yes, that sounds ideal. Right? A simply friendship, easy. He can do it.

PART 2/MASTERLIST

comments and reblogs so so so so much appreciated!! likes don't share posts or boost them or anything, but comments and reblogs do!! if you don't then i hope you enjoyed reading anyway!! <3

LANDO AND CARLOS // sunday, singapore gp 2023

me and max are just the same

charles leclerc lives in our heads rent free

"my pretty baby"

dream x gender neutral reader

minors and ageless blogs DNI!

TW: smut lol, praise kink, pet names, overstimulation i think?, mostly soft and fluffy sex, cursing, dom/sub dynamics. softdom!dream, sub!reader.

disclaimer: english is not my first language, i apologies if there are any mistakes and please be nice this is my first post <3.

YOU felt a tear slide down your cheek as Dream trusted back inside you and you let out a small whimper. It felt great, he was great, it was just...a bit too much.

As if he noticed your slight discomfort, Dream slowed down, taking his time to kiss your whole face, starting from your forehead to your jaw and then moving to your neck. He gazed up to you, a smile tugging on his own lips as his big green eyes locked with your E/C eyes. He kissed your lips, and you didn't waste time and kissed him back.

"Everything ok baby?" He mumbled, tracing small circles on your inner thigh and you felt yourself melt as he watched you with that soft smile. You nodded, Dream kissed you again as he thrusted back inside of you, this time more gentle and slower than before.

The friction made you moan in his mouth, but he only chuckled and kept going, his thrust picking up a more consistent rhythm. Dream pulled away from your lips and groaned, eyes closed from the pleasure and hair falling over his forehead. "You feel so good baby, sooo good." He mumbled, squeezing softly your hip as moans escaped your lips at his praise.

"So pretty, you look so pretty like this." He pecked your lips again, effectively silencing the loud cry that left your mouth.

"Dream please-!" You whimpered, a desperate moan following right after. He smiled at you softly, still thrusting in you and he nodded, his fingers making their way to your sex to work you through your orgasm. "You're doing so good, my pretty n/n. " He whispered in your ear just as you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a pressure building up in your stomach.

"Can I- Can I please come?" You asked breathless, your eyes searching his green ones. He groaned at your tone, but nodded nonetheless, moving his fingers faster to please you. "Go on, you look so pretty when you cum." He moaned out, throwing his head back as he felt his own orgasm getting closer.

The pressure in your stomach quickly grew, and with a moan you didn't bothered to hide you felt yourself coming. He grunted, feeling you clench around his dick, and squeezed your hips. "You look beautiful like this, my pretty baby." He said, a soft smile on his face as he kept fucking you through your orgasm.

The tears gathered again in the corners of your eyes, but you squeezed them shut as you felt yourself coming again. "Fuck." Dream groaned, his thrust now losing their rhythm as he also came inside of you.

You moaned again, eyes rolled back from the pleasure while Dream kissed your neck softly. "You sound so pretty baby, I love hearing you moan for me." He breathed out, slowly stopping to thrust before pulling out and taking off the condom from his dick.

He lied next to you for a few minutes, arms wrapped around you as he kissed your forehead and whispered in your ear how good you were. He then pulled away, getting up and taking a pair of new boxer before walking to the bathroom connected to his room. You felt your eyes becoming heavier, but you opened them when you felt something cold and wet between your legs. You made eye contact with Dream who gently cleaned you up, holding a wet towel in one of his hands, and in the other one of his shirts and underwear for you to wear. He helped you get dressed before slipping in the bed and covering both of you with the heavy covers of the bed.

Dream wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer while you placed your head on his chest and closed your eyes. He kissed your forehead one last time before he whispered you goodnight and you mumbled one back.

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸

FREE CONGO 🇨🇩

FREE SUDAN 🇸🇩

FREE PUERTO RICO 🇵🇷

FREE HONDURAS 🇭🇳

FREE HAWAII ❤️🤍💙

GIVE AMERICA BACK!!!

GIVE PALESTINE BACK!!!

I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS EVER AGAIN!!! IT'S ALL HAPPENING NOW, SPEAK UP!!! SAY SOMETHING!!!!

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Just getting back into writing, so warning: potentially ooc Ghost.

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- cbf! Simon, who reaches out to an old acquaintance to send his first paycheck to you. He has the barracks and mess hall and knows you have no such comforts.

- cbf! Simon, who finds you left town as soon as you turned 18 from said acquaintance.

-cbf! Simon, who can't seem to track you down no matter how hard he tries. It's just like you disappeared. He can't even find any semblance of an internet presence.

-cbf! Simon, who lets it haunt him. The memories of your friendship and the absence of knowledge regarding your current life pop into his head at the worst times.

- cbf! Simon, who believes he's cursed. That he'll lose everyone he loves.

-cbf! Simon, who eventually accepts that he'll never have a bond like the two of you shared. Sure, he has his teammates. But they don't care for each other the same way you two did.

-cbf! Simon, who eventually learns to live with your absence. He even befriends his other teammates and (eventually) the tf141.

-cbf! Simon, who sees a girl eerily similar to what he imagined you'd look like, all grown up while out celebrating a successful mission with the task force.

-cbf! Simon, with a concerned Johnny, asking if he's okay as he stares at the girl with glazed over eyes.

-cbf! Simon, who hears your laugh, coming from the girls mouth. He immediately stands up to push Johnny away and head towards the bar.

-cbf! Simon, who approaches you with Johnny hot on his heels.

-cbf! Simon, who sees the confused look in your eyes as he approaches you and feels an ache in his chest.

-cbf! Simon, who has to make sure it's you. He calls out your name, and there's recognition on your face. Towards the name, not him.

-cbf! Simon, who's crushed when you ask, "Do I know you?" As if seeing the hurt in his eyes, you add, "Sorry. Can't really recognize you with the mask on mate."

-cbf! Simon, who doesn't think twice before ripping his balaclava. He thinks he hears a gasp come from Johnny. But all that matters is the look in your eyes.

-cbf! Simon, who almost collapses as he hears you mumble, "Simon?"

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If this does well, I'd like to make it into a short fic:)

Thoughts would be appreciated.

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shoutout to all my fellow smut enjoyers