Roommate Novels & Stories

“Give it” I ordered, gesturing to my mask and lingerie. “Give them to me.” Something playful trotted in his eyes. “Take them” he toyed. I lunged in, and he leaned back, shifting to the side until I collapsed first against the cotton sheets. I turned to look at him, and he towered on top of me, looking down in a way that rolled spikes over my flesh. I could feel the heat from his body, and as if he noticed, he leaned closer. Until his breath steadied over my neck. “Max—” “What?” He said it so innocently. Like he didn't know what he was going. Like he… “You're the one holding my shirt.” I suddenly noticed the silk feel to my hand. My fingers already starting to mindlessly wander over his buttons. Let go. Let go Bianca! Why won't I let go?! “Does that mean I have permission to this?” *** To make earns meet, a struggling college student creates an OnlyFans page with a hidden identity. Her secret pays the bills, keeps her in school, and protects the quiet, invisible life she’s built. Until one message ruins everything. “Hi, Bianca.” Someone knows who she is, behind the mask… and he wants to meet. The culprit, a man that belongs to her best friend. A longing that should be off limits… until it isn't. Caught between a darkness deeper than her wildest imaginations, a desire stronger than the control that slowly slips away, and a truth that could destroy her reputation, Bianca is forced into a dangerous game of control and temptation. Where saying no is never simple, and saying yes could cost her everything.

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat. I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees." Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this." But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show. "It's such a shame that you aren't here." I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone. "Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

The night before our big offline meetup, my roommate took one look at my internet boyfriend's photo and declared it was a fake. "Using a stolen photo for an online romance? He's definitely insecure and too ugly to show his real face!" The next day, my boyfriend texted: [Sorry, something came up at the last minute. Can you wait half an hour?] I breathed a sigh of relief because I had just been notified about an exclusive expert lecture on campus. Word was, the speaker was an academic powerhouse, and the university had paid a fortune to secure him. I snagged a seat in the front row. But the moment I looked up at the podium, my stomach dropped. Why did this famous scholar look so much like my boyfriend in the "stolen photo"?

On the first day of classes, my roommate gives me a crystal bracelet as a welcome gift. Without thinking, I quickly adorn it around her mother's wrist. In my past life, my roommate wanted to be a social butterfly. She was determined to have a hundred boyfriends by the time she graduated. But no matter how reckless she was, she never ended up conceiving. On the other hand, I kept getting pregnant and having countless miscarriages. But unlike her, I had never been in a relationship. The entire university mocked me, labeling me promiscuous and shameless. During my 66th miscarriage, I died on the operating table from severe bleeding. It was only after death that I realized the crystal bracelet my roommate gave me had somehow linked our wombs together. As soon as I opened my eyes, I realized I had gone back to the first day of the semester.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

First day of school, and my roommate Sharon hits me with a $50k guilt trip over some "limited-edition" suitcase. "You're blind or just too dumb to walk straight?" My boyfriend? Useless. Classmates? Total sheep. The dean? Clown. Then I really looked at Sharon. Wait a sec—wasn't she the same scholarship case my family covered?

I had worshipped my older sister, Sophie Lane, ever since I was little. Growing up, my greatest happiness was serving her drinks, carrying her bags, and picking up her meals. After Sophie was accepted into Central University, I immediately got my SAT and skipped a grade so I could get into the same university. On the day Sophie moved into the university, she entered the dorm room with eight bodyguards. Our roommates call her "The One Queen!" Meanwhile, I was making her bed. Only Viola Lynch gave me a knowing look and teased me. "You aren't her roommate at all, are you? You're clearly her personal maid." I merely smiled without answering. That day, Sophie casually tossed me the new Chanel purse she had bought. "This color suits you. Use it." When I took the purse with a grin, Viola happened to walk past the doorway. The weekend Sophie went abroad on vacation, Viola and I were the only ones left in the dorm. "Eve, do you know what everyone in class calls you behind your back? Sophie's pet." The next day, my boyfriend Aaron Sanders, the campus heartthrob, asked me to meet him at the track field. Viola stood beside him with red eyes. When he saw me, he frowned deeply. "Eve, can you stop being so pathetic? You became someone's pet over a single purse? Viola's family might be poor but even she has more dignity than you." Viola tugged at his sleeve and whispered. "Aaron, don't say that about her. I'm not worth it." I looked at them holding hands and suddenly chuckled. Wait. For real. Had no one noticed that Sophie and I shared the same last name?

After my roommate Cecelia Turner stepped out, the tablet she had left on the table suddenly lit up. I glanced at it absentmindedly and saw the group chat name—Free Riders Club. 'Celebrating this month's huge payday!' Several cash drops flooded the chat in quick succession. My interest was piqued. So, I tapped in to take a look. Besides Cecelia, the group included our landlord and the other two roommates. 'Thanks, Cece! We couldn't have saved up so much money if you hadn't come up with the idea of overcharging Ziegler on the rent!' 'Exactly! Honestly, having Madison as a free live-in maid means we even save on housekeeping and takeout!' The chat was filled with laughter as everyone chimed in to thank me for my "free services." Although they were thanking me, I was the only one who wasn't included in that group chat.

My roommate was obsessed with those cheesy “milk-scented girl” romance stories. She wanted to become the kind of heroine from those books. Tiny, soft, and delicate, the type who was supposedly so sweet that even her farts smelled like milk. So she went completely overboard. She lived on dairy. Drank milk nonstop. Even took milk baths. She tried everything, all because she was convinced she’d eventually run into her destined male lead. I believed in letting people make their own choices. What I didn’t expect was for her to go after my boyfriend, the guy I’d basically grown up with. One day, she sent him a carefully posed thirst trap. He replied with one word. “Get lost.” Then she proudly showed me the screenshot, like she’d won something. “Only girls like me, soft and sweet and irresistible, deserve a powerful man’s obsessive love.” “Don’t be fooled by how cold he is now. He’ll be crazy about me soon enough. He’ll want me all to himself.” I was just about to tear into her when a row of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. “Fresh one, guys. This host is bold. Coming in with a thirst trap right away? Nice.” “Wait, what? Isn’t this just harassment? The male lead already has a girlfriend.” “Bro, I think you’re in the wrong livestream.”

No clue what kind of karma got me stuck with William Wilde as my roommate. College was supposed to be chill, finally some freedom. But with him? It felt like SAT season all over again. I gamed, he hit the books. I went out, he grinded certs. I tried everything to mess with his groove. Then one day, he looked up and went, "Isaac, do you like me?"