#roommate!reader

Hell, you’d even feel lucky to kiss him and you wonder what his lips feel like. You want to feel the beard that he let grow out rub against your skin as he kisses you desperately. You want his hands to slide down into your shorts and have his way with your cunt. God, what you would do to have his head between your thighs, devouring you like a full course meal.

You’re only doing your laundry to keep yourself busy. You tried to get some work done, but you just can’t-now when all of your thoughts about Simon have become dirty. And you know you shouldn’t feel attracted to him when he’s done nothing but ignore you, but you can’t help it. He’s become the star of all your late night fantasies and you don’t want them to stop.

The water turns off just as you find one of Simon’s t-shirts mixed in with your laundry. You set it to the side with the intent of putting it in his bed when he inevitably leaves the house and continue to fold your clothes.

His door closes and let your mind wander, wondering what he looks like naked. Maybe it’s a bit pervy of you, but you don’t care. You just know that his body is toned and you want to run your hands all over it. And his cock has got to be huge. Got to be.

You decide that he’s got to be dressed by now and grab the shirt, making a beeline for his room. You don’t care if he doesn’t like you. You’re tired of avoiding him to get out of his way and decide now that you’re going to kill him with kindness.

You knock on the door before opening it and you both scream when you catch Simon jacking off. His hand is fisting his cock as he stares at you wide eyed in horror.

Your initial shock wears off and you step into the room to take him in. His cheeks are bright red as he tries to cover up. But as he sees that you’re into what’s happening, the embarrassment melts away.

Simon removes his hand and lets you get a good look at his very large cock. You step closer and take it one of your hands as you back him up against the wall.

“Do you want some help?” You ask and he nods furiously, his pupils growing wider.

“Please,” he begs and you remove your hand before spitting into it and grabbing it by the base. You pump harder and harder and the most delicious sound falls from his lips. You never expected him to be just as much of a perv as you. You really thought he’d kick you out.

You sink to your knees and take the tip into your mouth, licking the slit before sucking on it. You continue to pump as you suck on him and feel yourself getting wet at the whiny mess you’ve made of him.

You take him deeper and deeper, licking up and down his cock as you suck and suck, moaning loudly as you do so. Your hands move to his ass as you push him further into your mouth, the head hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Such a dirty girl,” he growls. “Want me to fuck that mouth?” He watches you nod and his hands grab onto your hair as he thrusts his cock in and out of your mouth. “You’re so shy and quiet. Didn’t think you had this in you.” He’s moving fast and hard and you can’t help but moan loudly, so turned on by what’s happening.

“You’re so hot when you’re on your knees. Bet you’d look even better on my-fuck, fuck, fuck.” Rope after rope of cum leaks out into your mouth and he pulls out with a loud pop before you swallow.

He pulls you to your feet and and his lips find yours as he backs you up to the bed before pushing you down onto it. You don’t know when your shirt came off, but you see it on the floor behind Simon as he lies on top of you. His kisses are rough and messy and you moan into each other's mouths as your tongues tangle together. He tastes himself on your tongue and wonders if you taste even better.

He pulls down your shorts and panties and when he spreads your legs wide, seeing that you’re so wet that it’s trickling down your legs.

“Guess it’s my turn to take care of you, huh?” He asks. “It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” he winks before he gets down onto his knees in front of you. He puts your legs over his shoulders and licks up each thigh to clean up your mess before he dives straight in.

He goes for your clit first, licking and sucking as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt. They’re moving at a rapid rate as he continues to suck hard on your clit. Your hands grab onto his hair as you let out moan after moan. This is easily the best head you’ve ever received and you wouldn’t mind at all if this is all the two of you did all night.

He introduces another finger and somehow moves even faster-even harder. You swear he’s trying to tear you apart and you wouldn’t even mind. It just feels so good. Especially when they curve, hitting that one spot that drives you crazy. You’re coming, the most beautiful moans falling from your lips, but Simon keeps at it, wanting to see just how many times he can make you orgasm.

His fingers come out and now his mouth is doing all the work as he bites down hard, causing your thighs to press against his head, your heels digging into his back. He stares up at you, watching you come again. Your mouth forms that “O” shape as a scream falls from your lips. Your right where he wants you and he thinks you’re both ready for him to get inside.

All you have to do is say please. You don’t even need a break-just him. You need him to fuck you so senseless that you won’t be able to walk for days.

“Please, Simon.” God, the way you say his name drives him absolutely crazy. He’s so willing to do whatever you ask. “Fuck me.” The words come out in a breathy Noah and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

He’s hovering over you in seconds, hands on your waist as he slides inside. He rocks into your and you’re quick to match him, hips bucking against his. You’re both moving with so much force that the bed is shaking, the mattress squeaking underneath you.

Neither of you are sure how long it’s going to last but you’re determined even though your words are starting to slur. You guess you’re just going to have to go for multiple rounds since that’s the case.

“Look at you,” he says, his words also starting to slur. “Taking me so well. God, you’re-fuck-perfect.“ He’s close, he can feel it. And he can tell that you’re not far behind. You come first and when it’s his turn, he’s quick to pull out, cum leaking out all over your stomach.

As you’re coming down, Simon fetches a damp washcloth from the bathroom and cleans you both up. He then helps you get dressed before putting his pants back on.

“Sorry for being such a dick,” he apologizes as he sits next to you on the bed. “I-I couldn’t stop thinking about you in that way and I don’t know, I felt gross about it so I avoided you. It won’t happen again.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’ve been thinking about you too?” You turn to him and he smiles before leaning in for a kiss.

“You uh-you can sleep in here tonight-if you want.”

“You ate my cooking last night, Parker.” You grumble in response, though your brows are doing that cute little dip that they do when you’re focused and your eyes stay locked on his chest; skin tinged an angry red and purple where metal met flesh right over his ribs. He’ll die before he admits it, but he absolutely flexes his core under your piercing gaze.

“And you just left it like this!?” You ask disbelievingly. “You didn’t tape it up? No ice? Have you even cleaned the area!?”

“I’m fine.” he argues as you stand to storm away; the sound of things rattling in the door of the freezer as you yank it open with too much force. “I’m quite capable, I’ll have you know.” 

“Quite capable.” You scoff as you return with a bag of frozen peas, cloths, and some athletic tape. “If you were so capable, how come someone managed to hit you with a tire iron?”

“It was six against one, babe; I think I'm entitled to miss one blow?” He doesn’t look at you as he says it; eyes pointing up at the ceiling and mentally counting backwards from 100 by three as you sink to your knees in front of him and set up between his spread legs. “‘Sides, it was just a tire iron.”

“Just a tire iron? Peter, that is what most people would call a blunt force instrument.” 

“Well I’m not most people, am I?” He jokes. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of a big deal ‘round here. They call me Spider-Man.”

“You’re a bad Spider-Man…” You mutter, forcing Peter’s head up to look at you incredulously; the sight of your head at waist level is a little too much for him to handle, though, forcing him to recline again.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you’re a bad Spider-Man.” You repeat, now with your full chest.

“How can I be a bad Spider-Man?! I’m the only one! There’s literally nothing to compare me to!” 

“Okay, well, first of all: where are your other limbs?” You ask simply, sitting back on your heels to cut him a look. 

“Other limbs?!” He gawks, sitting back up to glare at you.

“You’re short four limbs for a spider!”

“Man, babe; Spider-Man.” He’s quick to correct.

“And what the hell have you done about mothman?” 

“Mothman?” 

You nod and shrug helplessly. “Well? Spiders eat moths, no? Seems to me a proper Spider-Man should have put a stop to him by now.”

Peter blinks owlishly at you. “You are so weird.”

“Lay back.” You demand after a scoff of offence. 

Peter does as told; hyper focused on your proximity to him, his stomach tightens when your breath tickles his skin. You place your elbows on either side of his hips and he thinks he might actually die as you start dabbing at the broken and raw skin of his abdomen.

“Breathe, Parker, it’s just a cloth.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re currently hovering over my crotch right now so I have more pressing matters to attend to, okay?”

“What?”

“I’ve only ever imagined you on your knees under very different circumstances so you’re going to have to give my brain a second to catch up, alright?” He bites, throwing his arm over his eyes as he waits for you to storm off or maybe call him out for being a pervert. 

“Oh! You’ve imagined that too?” You cheer excitedly, causing Peter to flinch not only at your pitch but also at the way you simply continue your ministrations; wiping at the bruising and scrapes one last time before reaching for the athletic tape. “What was I wearing? Because I have this blue number I think you’d love.” 

His head snaps up again, causing yours to do the same; blinking once, twice, and then smiling at Peter like you haven’t just blown his mind. 

“You are so weird.” He reminds you. “Are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done.”

You tsk and smooth out the tape you’ve laid, your hand straying slightly lower than strictly necessary in a way that Peter does not miss.

“You’re all patched up, Parker. Just let me know when you want to see that outfit of mine.”

“Oh my fucking God, someone save me.”

You were in the shower when Bucky found himself staring at your panties. You had your pajamas laid out on your bed so they were ready for you when you’re done showering. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. The panties on your bed were red and lace. He couldn’t help himself. One of his hands moved on their own accord, picking up your panties. He left your bedroom before you got out of the shower and saw him standing in your room with your panties in his hand. He went straight to his bedroom, which is right next to your room. He sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at your panties. He felt his cock growing hard in his sweatpants.

Meanwhile, you got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your dripping wet body. You used another towel to dry your hair a bit before going to your room to put your pajamas on. Before you did so, you frowned in confusion when you didn’t see your panties on top of your pajamas. You are most certain that you got a pair of panties out and put them on your bed before you took a shower. You looked on the floor, but they weren’t there. You were about to get another pair of panties out when you thought to yourself. Maybe Bucky knows where they are. So, you went to his bedroom.

“Bucky?” You say.

Bucky jumps and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Yes?” Bucky says.

You stared at Bucky for a moment, studying him. He looks like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. That’s enough to tell you that he’s up to something. You caught a glimpse of your red lace panties sticking out of his pocket. That really tells you that he’s most definitely up to something.

“I was wondering if you’ve seen my panties.” You say.

“No, I haven’t. What do they look like?” He asks like he didn’t just steal them a few minutes ago.

“Red and lace.” You say.

“Nope, haven’t seen them.” He says.

You hummed to yourself before approaching him. Bucky’s breathing makes a hitching sound when you got in his face.

“Really? Then what are these?” You curiously asked, pulling your panties out of his pocket.

Bucky tried to answer you, but he stammered with his words. He felt himself getting flustered.

“Answer this question for me.” You begin. “Did you steal my panties, Bucky?” You asked.

Again, Bucky stammered with his words as he tried to answer you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be good for you.” He says submissively.

That’s not the answer you wanted, but you’ll take it. You bite your lip when an idea popped into your head.

“Oh, you will be.” You say softly and seductively.

You placed a kiss on his lips that left him wanting more. Then you let go of your towel, which pooled around your feet. Bucky shamelessly stars at your naked body. You push his legs open and get on your knees in between them. Bucky’s breathing makes another hitching sound when your hand slides into his sweatpants, pulling his now hard cock out.

“You’re so hard, Bucky.” You say softly and seductively.

Bucky’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head when you began to slowly lick the underside of his cock, which is driving him crazy.

“Oh god.” Bucky moans softly.

You giggled softly and smirked to yourself.

“Answer another question for me.” You softly begin. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Bucky?” You asked seductively.

“I’ll be so good for you.” He answers, his voice sounding just as submissive as it was a moment ago.

You grinned softly before licking g from the base of his cock to his tip. You kitten licked his tip for a few seconds before wrapping your lips around his cock and began bobbing your head. Bucky stares down at you as you sucked his cock. His hands held onto the edge of the mattress with a tight grip.

“Fuck!” Bucky moans, tilting his head back.

You smirked to yourself, loving how fast Bucky melted under your touch. You’re having fun with this and you intend on having more fun with it.

“You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you, baby?” You say softly.

“I am.” Bucky says and nods.

Your tongue licks every inch of his cock. Bucky looks down at you at the same time your eyes flickered up at him, making eye contact with you. His breathing makes a hitching sound when you kitten licked his tip.

“Holy shit.” He moans softly.

Bucky couldn’t help but thrust his hips upward, accidentally making you choke on his cock. Not that you mind.

“Ah, ah. I thought you said you’ll be a good boy for me.” You say.

“I am! I didn’t meant to do that! I swear!” Bucky says, sounding a submissive and a bit frantic.

As you went back to sucking his cock, one of your hands found its way to his balls. You played with them for a bit before giving them a squeeze. Bucky nearly came on the spot when you did that.

“Holy fucking shit!” Bucky moans loudly.

You grin to yourself and did it a few more times. That helped his orgasm to build up. He can feel it. He’s right there. You can sense it too.

“You’re going to make me cum!” He moans.

“That’s the point, baby boy.” You say seductively.

You kept continuing your movements with your mouth and hand, getting him closer and closer to coming. Bucky moans your name loudly as he cums in your mouth. He cums so much that a little bit of it spills out of your mouth and rolls down your chin. You swallowed every drop of it. Bucky breathes heavily and falls back on his bed. You took his cock out of his mouth and got on top of him. He watches you closely as you wipe his cum off of your chin and seductively licks it off of your thumb. He felt his cock harden again.

“I hope you don’t think that we’re done, babe, because that’s only the beginning. If you keep being a good boy for me, I’ll let you do anything you want to me.” You say softly and seductively.

You roll your eyes at that. “Yeah, right. The world would be a better place if he did. Last week, he almost cut his thumb off because he didn’t listen to me.” You shake your head, forgetting for a moment that Ollie can’t see you. “I’m seriously starting to wonder whether he does it out of spite, or if he’s just an idiot.”

“He’s an idiot,” you hear Kimi pipe up in the background, making you scowl. You weren’t aware you had an audience listening.

“Like you’re one to talk, Antonelli,” you retort.

Ollie interrupts, confused, “Wait, wait—what was that about Isack cutting his thumb?”

You exhale, fumbling with your keys. “Your old blender was involved in this incident. So, if anything, I blame you.” Despite the fact that you only have three keys, you never quite seem to get it on the first try. “Hang on, wait, I’m home. Can I call you in a bit?”

You hear Ollie say something unintelligible to Kimi, before distractedly responding with a, “Uh, yeah, yeah.”

“Alright. Bye.” As soon as the call ends, you toss your phone into your backpocket and open the door to your shared apartment.

The second it slides open, you’re met with an odd sight. Isack stands at the very center of the living room-slash-kitchen, awkwardly hovering near the couch. His phone is pulled up to his ear as he anxiously bites on his thumb, foot bouncing nervously against the carpet. You vaguely recall Isack mentioning he would be out today working on a group project for one of his classes. You thought it would take him longer than an hour.

You tilt your head ever so slightly, quietly placing the two grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Isack?” you call out, making the boy jump. He whips his head around, meeting your confused gaze. “You okay there?”

A wave of relief crosses his face as soon as he sees you. “Oh, thank god,” he breathes out and hurries towards you, nearly tripping over the couch in the process. He places his hands around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him conspiratorially. “You need to help me,” he says desperately.

You frown, setting down the bag of oranges onto the counter slowly. “Why are we whispering?”

Isack shakes his head, hastily throwing a glance towards your (regretfully) shared bathroom. “Keep it down,” he hisses. His voice drops a few octaves when he says, “There’s a girl from my Calc class here and I think she’s hitting on me.”

You stare at him questioningly. “Oh. Do you want me to leave or…?”

“No!” Isack exclaims, pink rushing to his cheeks as he realizes just how loud he’s said it. He throws another cursory glance at the bathroom before centering his gaze back on you. “No—you just need to help me get her out.”

“Out as in get rid of her?” You scrunch your nose. “Why?” You sound confused, mainly because—in all fairness—you are. Especially since you can clearly recall Isack confessing he had a crush on a girl from one of his classes after one of your movie nights. It’d be hard to forget it.

It hadn’t started out any differently than any other movie night of yours. After finishing his lab report, it’d been Isack’s turn to choose a movie while you threw some popcorn into the microwave, got a few beers from the fridge and gathered a handful of blankets from both your rooms. Still, despite both of you having met your pending deadlines, it had been an exhausting week, with essays upon essays blurring your days together. Neither of you seemed to have it in you to stay up and unconscious to finish the movie. Past the halfway point, Isack started sinking deeper and deeper into the couch, his head eventually resting on your lap as he finished yet another beer bottle with sluggish movements. You hadn’t really been keeping track of the plot, but you could see it was a slow, quieter scene when you felt Isack’s gaze shift over to you. He looked up with flushed cheeks and a drunk-slash-sleep induced haze when he asked whether you were going out with Ollie’s friend Luke.

“Uh… no,” you responded as a murmur, the sound of the movie growing more distant. Isack reached for your hand, toying with the rings on your fingers.

“Whynnot?” Isack mumbled, vowels stretching together and his accent falling thicker. “Ollie keeps saying that Luke has a thing for you. B’like—t’sais… you’re way out of his league.”

“Oh, am I?” There were tinges of amusement in your voice. That, and something you wouldn’t attempt to name.

Isack nodded. “Mhm. Absolument.” He paused for a moment and craned his neck to meet your gaze, his blinks slow and dazed. “So…do you, like, have a thing for him?”

You shifted on your seat—and you hadn’t quite understood why the half-lidded look he was giving you made your face feel hotter. You turned to look back at the film, even when it was just the credits. There were butterflies fluttering in your stomach—and you shouldn’t be getting butterflies from your roommate.

This is bad, you thought, very, very bad.

It wasn’t long before you came to the conclusion that you did not want to address that warmth that grew within your body—not if you could help it. Instead, you opted to make the right call, and squash those butterflies before they grew into something beyond your control.

“Ah, I don’t know. I don’t think so,” you said, still feeling Isack’s expectant gaze on you. You felt too exposed—even when he was probably too drunk or too sleepy to pick up on it, it felt as if you had your revelation written across your face. So, to be safe from any suspicion, you added, “I just don’t think I’d wanna date someone who’s in my close circle, you know? That shit ruins friendships. I guess… I wouldn’t wanna risk it.”

Isack murmured something in French, and when you turned to look at him again, you found that he was staring at the ceiling with rosy cheeks. He’s been drinking too much, you noted.

“Yeah?” Isack said, voice pitching an octave too high. “That’s great, you know, b’cause I have a thing for this, ah, this girl from one of my classes. And she’s like… y’know…” he drifted off, never quite finishing his thought. Despite his words being messy and spoken with a drunken drawl, you managed to understand. His hazy eyes focused back on you, an unfamiliar expression crossing Isack’s gaze, but before you could place it, he offered a tight-lipped smile. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

And now, staring at Isack, you feel perplexed.

“I’m—” Isack stammers, glancing back at the bathroom one last time, “I’m not into this girl like that. And, and I tried telling her but I don’t think she’s getting it, like, at all.” He puffs out his cheeks, staring back at you like you’re the solution to all his problems. “I think Gabriel must have told her some lie that I can’t get out of.”

A beat passes, his words processing slowly in your mind. You blink. Isack huffs impatiently, “Come on, you owe me.”

At that, your face twists. You scoff, shooting back, “I do not.”

Isack’s eyes seem to momentarily brighten at that, as if a sudden revelation strikes him. “Wait—yes, yes you do. Remember Mark from your Ethics class?” The memory returns to you almost instantly, a groan leaving your throat. You had completely forgotten about Mark from Ethics. Isack nods eagerly, noting the recognition in your eyes. “I got him off your back after you asked me to.” He grins triumphantly, momentarily forgetting about his current situation. Soon enough, though, his grin drops and his voice turns back into a hushed whisper. “Come on, please—don’t make me beg.”

You tilt your head, a teasing smile curving onto your lips. “D’aw, but I love it when you beg.” If you notice how Isack stiffens at that, you don’t show it— nor do you mention the faint pink creeping onto the tips of his ears.

Distantly, you both hear water running in the bathroom.

“Fine. I’ll help you.”

He drops his hands from your shoulders, back slumping with pure relief. “Thank—” He moves closer to lean his head against you, before quickly realizing you’re not standing there anymore. His head snaps up, only to see you stepping out of the apartment and shutting the door behind you.

Isack’s jaw drops. “Where—hey, what the—” He’s about to chase after you, when the bathroom door finally opens, revealing his dreaded guest. He spins on his heel, a forced smile on his lips. “Annie! Hello!”

The blue-eyed girl furrows her brow, a puzzled look on her face. “Were you talking to someone?”

Isack’s lips part, struggling to find a believable excuse. He deliberately fumbles and pats his pockets. “Uh, no, I was just, uh, looking for my phone.”

You’re a backstabber, he thinks. A bad friend.

He’s gonna get back at you for this—he doesn’t know exactly how yet. And Gabriel. He’s gonna get back at him too. Gabriel’s been a bad influence on you, the prick, Isack just knows it—

The door creaks open. Both him and Annie turn to look, only to be met by you.

You smile brightly as you step inside, so much so it seems unbelievably fake. “Hi babe, I’m—” you look up from your phone, only for that forced smile to drop into a surprised look, then a frown, and finally a furious expression. “Oh, my god.” You exclaim, glaring at Isack, then gaping at Annie. “Who is this? Who are you?”

Her pretty lips part to respond before you snap your head towards Isack with such resolution that he straightens almost immediately. You stare back at him, trying to make your best teary-eyed look appear convincing.

“Are you cheating on me? Again?” Isack sputters, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. You’re gesturing wildly, sounding increasingly distressed. “You said last time was the last time!” You stride towards him, smacking your hand against his chest. “I can’t believe you, you cheating little bitch!”

Finally coming to his senses and thankfully understanding your idea, he tries, “Chérie, it’s not—”

“No, Isack, I dropped out of Medschool for you!” you cry out, sounding both furious and in utter disbelief. “And you cheat on me again? I can’t fucking believe you!”

He takes it back. You are amazing, he thinks, almost unable to hold back a smile, you are the best. Gabriel though… he’s still a shit influence.

Annie finally speaks up, gaping back at Isack with an embarrassed look. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Oh, you didn’t tell her?” you snap at him, pushing him again. “That’s fucking priceless—after everything I’ve done for you? How could you?”

Annie awkwardly shifts off to the side as she throws her thumb over her shoulder. She carefully backtracks towards the door. “O…kay I think I’m gonna leave.”

“Love is fake and it never existed!” you cry out. “I will never be able to love anyone ever again after you—” You hear the door shut behind you and you straighten.

Isack blinks back at you, the corner of his lip twitching upwards as you shrug with a teasing grin.

“How’d I do?”

Isack breathes out a laugh, fighting the urge to lift you up in his arms and spin you around. “You’re… wow.”

You find it you enjoy watching as the awkwardness drains out of him, features alight with amusement and delight. “Don’t get used to it though,” you warn. A beat. “And um, sorry if I hit you too hard,” you say apologetically, prompting Isack to laugh.

“Don’t worry about it,” he breathes out, slumping onto the couch with an exhale. He leans his head back, exposing his neck to you as he lets out a small sound of relief.

Your eyes linger a moment too long on Isack before turning towards the fridge and continuing to restock with the groceries you brought. “To her credit, she’s very pretty,” you say, pausing for a brief moment as you take out one of the slices of leftover pizza. “She seemed nice enough. Did she do something, say something to you?”

Isack peers at you from the couch, the pads of his thumbs drumming against his chest. “Um… no, not particularly.” He licks his lips. “Jack mentioned she’s nice—not that I think she will be talking to me again.”

He hears you stop your movements, making him pause. “Huh.”

He cranes his neck to meet your gaze. “What?”

“I don’t know. If she’s pretty, nice, and is into you…” Isack meets your questioning eyes with a strange feeling gnawing at his stomach, “why not shoot your shot?”

“I, ah…” he fumbles, licking his lips. “I kinda got my eyes set on someone else at the moment.”

“Right,” you say with a nod, trying not to show your disappointment. You turn to face the fridge, acting like you’re still organizing it in an effort to avoid Isack’s gaze. “Is it that girl from one of your classes? The one you mentioned during movie night?”

Isack tilts his head questioningly, before realization dawns on him. He nods hesitantly, inhaling sharply. “Um, yeah. Yeah, that’s… that’s it.”

“Well, if she’s friends with…” you pause, struggling with the name.

“Annie,” Isack supplies.

“If she’s friends with Annie, then I think we just blew your chances with this girl,” you say, not nearly sounding as disinterested as you would’ve hoped for.

“Ah,” Isack says softly.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, in a new sort of quiet. It’s not quite awkward, but it feels inexplicably different. Isack allows his gaze to linger on you. His dark eyes carefully traces the line of your nose, the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lips—

Heat creeps up his cheeks as he averts his gaze. Don’t think about her lips, creep, he thinks, and the thought only seems to deepen his blush. Isack silently thanks that you’re not standing close to him, otherwise he’s certain you’d be able to hear his erratic heartbeat thundering away.

He can’t help but wonder—when did he start feeling like this around you? When did he start thinking about your lips like that? Most importantly, how did his friends notice before he did?

“Just ask her out,” he remembers Jack telling him, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

Too many things. Too many things for Isack to even consider risking it—starting with the fact that he cares for you, continuing with you’re his roommate, and finishing with you saying you wouldn’t wanna jeopardize a friendship. And maybe rounding back to the fact that you’re his roommate. There’s no way he can make rent on his own—plus… he might’ve gotten used to living with you. Seeing you every morning before he goes out for his jog. Opening the cabinet to find you bought his favorite brand of cereal. Celebrating the end of stressful weeks with movie nights where your legs ultimately get tangled together.

“Also,” you start, making Isack perk up.

“Yeah?”

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, looking back at him with an amused look. “Chérie? Really?”

His throat feels dry, his cheeks hot. “You—You called me babe first!” he defends.

For once, he catches you off-guard. “Yeah, well, I’m your scorned ex-girlfriend. I’m supposed to call you babe.”

Isack straightens from his reclined position on the couch, now sitting as he gapes back at you. “Ex? We broke up?”

You shake your head. “Obviously. You cheated on me twice,” you quip.

Isack leans on of his arms over the couch, chin resting over the back. His brown eyes peer at you with a warmth that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah, well, you should’ve dumped my ass the first time.”

“Yeah, well…” You watch as Isack leans his head to the side in a puppy-like manner. Your heart stutters. “I have a thing for a pretty face.”

You turn your back to him just in time for him to hide his blushing face with his arm. Fucking hell, he exhales, he’s screwed. And even so, he can’t help but smile into his arm.

Pretty face. Pretty face. Do you think he’s pretty?

He closes his eyes and inhales, then exhales. He’s fine. He’s so cool about this, so unbelievably cool and normal about this.

It’s just a crush, he settles, it’ll go away eventually.

You heard Pelle’s door slam shut down the hall, wide awake thanks to Øystein’s scythe music, which he was blasting at 2 am. 

Pelle hated scythe music, and you all knew it, but he did it anyway. 

You weren’t surprised to see him from your window a minute later, wandering into the woods. 

Since you were starting to feel like you were losing your damn mind, you chased after him. 

“Pelle!” you hissed into the trees, glad you’d taken the time to put your shoes on to avoid trampling through the woods barefoot. There was broken glass all over the place and you found yourself hoping the Pelle had thought to do the same. 

Knowing him, you’d be plucking shards of glass out of his feet in the morning.

“Pelle!” 

“What!” He spoke far louder than usual, standing a few feet to your left. 

“Fuck!” you yelped “What the fuck! You scared the hell outta me.” 

“Well, that’s not good. The hell should stay on the inside.” He made a muffled choking sound, but you knew him well enough to know that it was really a laugh. 

“Yes,” you sighed, one hand still held over your racing heart, “you’re very funny. Are you wearing shoes?” 

“No.” 

“I figured.” 

“What are you doing out here?” 

“Same as you,” you scoffed “trying to get as far away from that fucker’s music as possible.” 

“He’s doing it just to bother us.” 

“I know. He’s such an asshole.” 

“I was going to bury myself in the dirt.” He told you in that soft, haunting voice of his, “Do you want to come?” 

“Sure,” you threw your hands out at your sides, following him deeper into the trees. “Might as well.” 

You almost tripped over him when he abruptly dropped onto his hands and knees a half hour later and started digging. 

You gasped and stopped just short of tumbling over, grabbing onto the nearest tree to keep yourself upright. 

Instead of asking him why he hadn’t warned you, knowing full well that he wouldn’t answer, you joined him in the dirt and started digging with your hands. 

You dug for what felt like hours without stopping for anything. By the time you’d made a crater big enough for the two of you to squeeze into, the sky was starting to brighten and the sun was starting to make its ascent. 

You found yourself surprised that Pelle didn’t seem to mind that you were practically on top of eachother, but only had a moment to contemplate it before he started dragging armfuls of dirt over you. 

“Oh!” you’d gasped, stunned, but then willing to help, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Me either.” He muttered, packing the damp earth over his limbs as tightly as he could, while leaving your side a little looser. “I had a dream about being buried alive and just had to try it.” 

The two of you laid in the dirt until the sun reached its peak. You’d both fallen asleep at some point. When you woke up, your fingertips were just barely touching. Pelle was snoring softly, just his head and one arm above ground as he slept.

His cheeks were streaked with dirt, and his hair was a wild mess. You had to assume that you looked the same. 

As you sat there, contemplating why the whole situation felt so comforting, you found yourself grateful that he’d let you come along. 

Pelle did not engage in much physical contact with anyone, and this was about as close as you’d ever gotten to him outside of tending to wounds or brushing past eachother in the hallway. 

Once you’d laid on the floor next to his mattress and stared at the ceiling with him, trying to figure out if he was maybe seeing something up there that the rest of you couldn’t. 

That had been the second closest. 

If anyone asked, you’d have to say that Pelle was your best friend. 

You wished he wasn’t. 

Only because you knew that he would leave sometime soon. 

Every morning, you popped your head into his room to check that he was still breathing, only long enough to be sure, then you’d leave him be. 

Sometimes he would be awake, and he’d wave you over to show off his latest find, usually a carcass of some kind. Others, you’d find him bleeding and offer to clean him up. 

Pelle had never been unkind to you for even a second. You hadn’t seen him be unkind to anyone really, even when the rest of you were screaming at eachother over just about anything, irritable after being cooped up in the house for too long in close quarters. 

You’d watched Øystein shout at him, trying to get him to engage, but he never did. Pelle always either walked away or stood there staring at something. 

When you started to realize that you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore from the cold, you started to wriggle your way out of the dirt, waking Pelle in the process. 

“What are you doing?” He looked up at you when you stood, shaking the dirt out of your clothes. 

“It’s freezing, Pelle. We should go back inside.” 

“We’ve only been out here a couple hours,” he told you, cocking his head to the side. 

“I think it’s been a bit longer than that.” You frowned, “Okay, I’m freezing, and I don’t know how to get back to the house, so you’ll have to come with me or I’ll get lost.” 

There was a soft huff from the dirt pile before Pelle pulled himself out, too. 

You stumbled into the kitchen, giggling at some point in the afternoon, freezing and absolutely covered in dirt. 

Øystein, Jorn, and Jan Axel were sitting on the couch and shot to their feet at the sound of you. 

“Where the fuck have you two been?” Øystein shouted, following the laughter into the kitchen, and the other two boys were hot on his tail. 

“We were supposed to be practicing-” He stopped when his eyes landed on the two of you. 

“Whoa.” Jan breathed, “What happened to you two?” 

“We buried ourselves in the woods.” Pelle grinned at them, his lips starting to turn blue, although they were hardly able to tell with all the dirt smeared across his face. “In the dirt like worms.” 

You didn’t look any better and were trying to hold your hand under the tap, but kept jerking away from the hot water. 

“You buried yourselves in the woods,” Jorn repeated back slowly. 

“Yes, we did,” you sighed, gesturing towards Pelle, who was now shivering. “Would somebody please put the kettle on, he’s gonna freeze to death.” 

“You’re both gonna freeze.” Jan stepped around you, the only one who seemed capable of formulating a thought beyond ‘what the fuck.’ “Go get in the shower or something.” 

“Pelle, you go first.” You nudged him towards the stairs. 

“I think I’ll just go to sleep.” He told you, moving with you anyway. 

“No, we slept enough,” They heard you mutter to him on your way up the stairs. “We both need to shower and get all this fucking dirt off of us. I think there’s a worm in my hair. Isn’t that fucked up?” 

You wound up in the bathroom together, showering in your underwear. You were going to get Pelle cleaned up first, but he was moving too slowly and wouldn’t do it on his own. Your teeth were starting to chatter, and you only had the one bathroom, so you turned the shower to a lukewarm temperature, told him to get undressed but leave his underwear on, and all but shoved him under the stream of water while shrugging off your own clothes and joining him. 

You gradually increased the temperature of the water and passed a bar of soap back and forth, taking turns under the stream of water. 

You were a little surprised that Pelle seemed so fine with you being in the shower together and thought that maybe you’d bonded in the dirt out there in the woods. 

The others went looking for you after an hour and made it up the stairs just in time to see the door open and a handful of mud-covered clothes get hurled into the hallway. You came stumbling out after them, soaking wet, in your underwear.

“What?” You frowned, staring back at the three boys frozen at the top of the stairs. “Never seen a girl in their underwear?” 

“Actually, that tracks,” You smirked, disappearing down the hall and into your room. 

“Do not let him put those filthy clothes back on!” you shouted over your shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” 

All three of them exchanged confused looks before taking a few steps forward, only to find Pelle standing in the bathroom, also soaking wet and dressed only in his underwear, combing through his hair with his fingers. 

“Dude.” Jan gaped at him. “Did you guys just shower together?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded absently, eyes trained on them in the small mirror. “She was cold, and I was taking too long.”

“You lucky fuck-” Jan cursed, but stopped when you reappeared, now dressed in linen shorts and a band t-shirt that was long enough they could barely tell you were wearing pants at all. 

You crossed the hall and let yourself into Pelle’s room before emerging with a bundle of clothes and a clean towel. 

You set them down on the sink and went back to your room, muttering something about going back to sleep after taking the cup of tea out of Jan’s hands. 

They watched you go with poorly concealed shock, still processing whatever the hell had just happened.

"Man," Jan whined, shaking his head at Pelle in solemn disappointment, "I bet you weren't even looking at her, were you?"

"Not really," Pelle shrugged halfheartedly, "No."

"What a waste." He sighed dramatically, lumbering down the stairs.