Smh Becky…

roommate!ellie who is so desperately trying to find a roommate before school starts, not wanting to make the expensive rent a weight on joel’s shoulders. that’s when she finds you, the only person who actually seems interested and nice to be a roommate with (plus very pretty).

roommate!ellie who is honestly way too nice, lets you pick out most of the decorations for your small apartment - also because she’s not very good at that. would literally let you cover it in pink if you asked.

roommate!ellie who is quite bad at cooking, has way too many instant noodles every week and barely ever makes breakfast for the simple reason of being lazy. is definitely surprised when you start making extra food and leave it in the fridge ready for her :)

roommate!ellie who is even more surprised when, in one night where joel comes to have dinner with her, you and him seem to be awfully good at making conversation with one another. the usually grumpy father turns into a very much lovely man to be around and makes sure to compliment your food at least twice. her dad likes you? that can’t be a coincidence.

roommate!ellie who really tries to be happy when you tell her you have a date, but inside she’s just trying to not crumble down right there in front of you. curls into her bed while you’re out with your date, secretly wishing you don’t bring them home with you.

roommate!ellie who loves to lay on the living room floor with you, specially on a late night after finishing a rough week. you’ll both eat an insane amount of candy until you’re sugar high and have a tummy ache, giggling at the most stupid things ever and talking the night away.

roommate!ellie who really wants to kiss you but is afraid it will ruin your whole dynamic. and she’s not about to risk losing you as a roommate. she’s fine with loving you from afar, she has to be.

"Poor thing… poor little thing…."

SMAU: pre-relationship texts with Toji Fushiguro! in which you are roommates with Toji Fushiguro

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes (nothing too crazy though)

masterlist

mike’s never been with anyone and he’s terrified of messing up, so his roommate offers to help him out. It’s just practice… right?

‧₊˚ ┊𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k ˎˊ˗

♡ྀི ┊𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: college au, first kisses, awkward nerd mike🤤, crumbs of vulnerability, not proofread.ᐟ

the dorm was quiet, except for the hum of the minifridge and the scratch of mike’s mechanical pencil against a notebook. it was late, well past the hour where most people were out doing things that they were supposed to do. for a year, this had been their routine. silence, study, the occasional shared takeout, and the polite, careful distance they maintained to keep from tripping over each other’s lives.

mike was hunched over his desk, his posture tight, shoulders pulled up toward his ears. "you’re grinding your teeth again," you said, not looking up from your own book.

mike’s pencil froze. he let out a short, sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "i’m not. i’m just… thinking."

"you’ve been thinking for three hours," you said, closing your book and turning your chair to face his back. he didn't turn around, but he shifted, a clear sign that he was retreating. "it’s friday night, mike. do you ever actually go out? i feel like if i looked for you in the dictionary under 'hermit,' i’d find a picture of your laptop."

mike let out a dry, humorless laugh. "very funny. i have things to do. school is hard, in case you hadn't noticed."

"school is hard for everyone," you said, your voice softening because you saw the way he was gripping his pencil, hard enough that the lead snapped. "everyone else seems to balance it. they go out, they meet people, they… i don't know, they date. you’ve been here for a year, mike. i’ve never seen you go on a single date. i’ve never seen you bring anyone back. you’re like a ghost in this room."

mike finally spun his chair around, but he didn't look at you. he looked at the floor, his foot tapping a nervous rhythm against the leg of his desk. "well, i don’t see why that’s your concern."

"it’s not a concern. i’m just… curious," you lied, feeling the heat rise in your own cheeks. the truth was, you’d been wondering since the second month. you’d been watching him, the way he looked when he was stressed, the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren't looking, the way you’d both fallen into this comfortable rhythm that felt like more than friendship to you, even if you were too terrified to name it. "is it… is there someone?"

mike’s head snapped up. he looked startled, his eyes wide and dark, searching your face for a joke you weren't making. "what? no. no, there’s no one."

"so, what? you just don’t like people?"

"it’s not that," he muttered, his voice dropping, turning raspy and defensive. he started picking at the thread on his sleeve, his movements clumsy. "it’s just… it’s a lot, okay? putting yourself out there. it’s not really my thing."

"you’re twenty, mike."

"i know how old i am," he snapped, then immediately softened, his shoulders slumping. "look, i just… i haven't really done any of that. ever. it’s not exactly something you advertise."

the room felt like it had suddenly lost all its oxygen. you sat there, blinking, trying to process the vulnerability he’d just handed you. you’d spent the last year thinking he was just busy, or maybe guarded, but hearing him admit he’d never… it felt like the floor had dropped out from under you. it matched the ache you’d been carrying for him, the secret you’d been keeping under a lock and key because you were too scared of ruining the only space where you felt like you belonged.

"you’ve never…?" you started, then stopped, feeling like an idiot. "oh. i didn’t… i’m sorry. i wasn't trying to pry."

"it’s fine," he said, though it clearly wasn't. he looked miserable. "it’s just… if i started now, i wouldn’t have any idea what i was doing. i’d probably just… be weird. make it awkward. ruin it for whoever it was. i’m not good at the… the stuff people do. the flirting, or the reading the room, or whatever. i’d just be that guy who fumbles through it and makes everything uncomfortable."

he looked at his hands, his knuckles white. he didn't say the rest, he didn't have to. he didn't say that he’d spent the whole year wanting someone, but being too afraid of acting on it because you two shared a dorm, because he didn't want to be the guy who crossed a line, because he didn't want to lose the one person who actually got him.

"mike," you said, your voice shaking just a little. you stood up, moving slowly, cautiously. you didn't want to scare him off. you stopped just a few feet from him, giving him every chance to turn away. "you’re not going to ruin anything. and you’re not weird. you’re just… you’re you."

he looked at you, his gaze searching yours, looking for a way out, but finding none. "you-you don’t know that. you’ve never seen me try."

"maybe," you whispered. the room felt very small, the silence thick with the things you hadn't said for twelve months. you were terrified, too. you were scared that if you did this, you’d change everything, that you’d break the fragile balance of your lives. but looking at him, seeing the raw, quiet desperation in his eyes, you knew you couldn't just walk away. "but… if you’re worried about being bad at it… why don't you practice?"

mike blinked, his breath hitching. "practice? ..like, what do you mean?”

"with me," you said, and your voice was barely a whisper. it was the most vulnerable thing you’d ever said. "it doesn’t… it doesn't have to be anything. we can just… help you get over the hump. if you’re worried about being clumsy, we can just… see. right now."

mike stared at you, his mouth slightly parted. he looked like he was trying to solve an equation that had no solution, his brows furrowed, his eyes darting to your face and then back to your lips. "you’re..being serious?"

"i’m just… trying to help a friend," you said, not able to even believe yourself.

he stood up, but he was shaky. he didn't have any of the confidence he’d seen other guys in the dorm hallway have. he just looked like himself, earnest, anxious, and deeply, painfully careful. he took one step toward you, then another, until he was standing right in your space. he didn't touch you yet. he hovered, his hands coming up and then dropping back to his sides, like he wasn't sure if he had permission to exist in the same space as you.

"if i’m… if i’m not good at this," he said, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the room, "you have to tell me. don’t just be nice. tell me."

"i won't be nice," you promised, your heart hammering against your ribs. "i’ll be honest."

he took a deep breath, and he finally reached out. his hands landed on your waist, his grip delicate, like he was afraid he might bruise you. his palms were warm, and you could feel the tremor in his fingers. he looked down at your face, his dark eyes searching yours, and for a second, he looked terrified.

"okay," he breathed.

he leaned in, slow and agonizingly hesitant. he was overthinking it, you could see it in the way he squinted, in the way he tilted his head too far, in the way he hesitated when he was inches away. you couldn't take it anymore. you reached up, your fingers finding the collar of his hoodie, and you gently tugged him the rest of the way.

the contact was electric. it was messy, he bumped his nose against yours, and he held his breath, and for a heartbeat, it was exactly as awkward as he’d feared. but then, he let out a sharp exhale, his eyes fluttering shut, and his grip on your waist tightened. he wasn't thinking about the mechanics anymore. he was just feeling.

he wasn't experienced, and you weren't either, but the desperation was there, a year’s worth of unspoken longing pouring into the touch. he moved his hands, pulling you closer, his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you in place like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. he kissed you like he was trying to learn the shape of your soul, his mouth searching, then slowly finding a rhythm that was just yours.

he made a small, frustrated sound in his throat, pulling back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours. he was flushed, his hair a disaster, his eyes dazed and wide.

"is that…?" he started, his voice thick. "was that… okay?"

you let out a shaky, breathless laugh, your hands still clutching the front of his hoodie. you could feel his heartbeat through his chest, fast and irregular, matching your own. "y-yeah," you whispered, "that was.. pretty good, i think.”

he let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension in his shoulders finally draining away, replaced by a soft, incredulous look of wonder. he didn't pull away. he stayed right there, in the circle of your arms, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

"okay," he murmured, his voice stronger now, more certain. "i think i might need to practice a little more."

he didn't wait for an answer. he leaned in again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

Roommate Brian Penderman, 26, announced Monday morning that he hopes the loud bumping, grinding, and moaning of the five-hour-long fuckfest he had with his girlfriend did not in any way prevent you from sleeping last night.

“I’m exhausted—are you exhausted?” Penderman asked while he extended his arms in a stretching motion and yawned loudly. “Honestly, though, I sincerely apologize if all that fucking that was going on in my bedroom kept you up until the early hours of the morning.”

word count: 2235

they met in college in metropolis, both journalism majors with a minor in communication studies. they had a lot of the same classes and shared a lot of the same interests, so naturally, they ended up hitting it off really well.

after class they would go to a local coffee shop to study, playfully bantering back and forth. they would end up just staying out late in clark's car, neither of them able to hangout in the other's dorm due to policies.

eventually, y/n would crack a joke about "just moving in together" but clark thinks it's a great idea. he would stutter and flush in the cheeks but he gets the word across. he thinks you two should move in together.