just a college fic i wanted but don't have, i like it a lot, it's unifinished for now but whatever
warnings: swearing, tattoos, hawks is a frat boy, and for some reason I wrote this in that small ass text way back when??? so forgive me
. . .
Inviting Hawks to be your roommate had repercussions. First and foremost, Hawks is the golden boy around campus that earned his name from ruthlessly going from relationship to relationship from week to week to get his dick wet. You knew his presence would have people forming their own assumptions. “No.” That had been your answer to him when he arrived on your doorstep with a smile and an attitude too chipper for anything before noon. He was undeterred by the door slamming in his face. His promise of being a nice roommate, a notecard of references (his friends he used to live with before he was kicked from his fraternity), and to never ever throw a party at your house. In the end, you’d let him stay.
And how might Hawks be as a roommate? Insufferable.
If he sees food in the fridge then consider it gone. He's the type to eat the leftovers you made without asking, who calls you when he's too wasted to get home by himself, and the kind of roommate that has music blasting when you're coming home from work exhausted. And he whines.
A lot.
But Keigo’s not all bad and surprisingly not the awful, arrogant, whiny uninhibited jock some people talk about. He does eat your leftovers (and shamelessly call you to tell you), but he buys takeout to have lunch with you on your break or dinner with you after work, whether he's tired or not. He might come home wasted at odd hours, but he makes up for it by doing his chores and buy the snacks you like. He does blast music when you're exhausted and kicking your shoes off by the door, but you do share the same taste in music and he does make a kick ass playlist. And is usually dancing in his pigeon pajama pants in the kitchen when you hear that music shaking the walls.
He's a decent roommate with his ups and downs, a better friend than roommate you'd say, one you have no intention of spending time around without discretion.
His little psycho fan club was already torn up about him moving off campus and you've undoubtedly garnered unwanted attention for how well you get along. He's thoughtful, but this particular scenario is a poor example to restitute the cordial goof that is your roommate.
Whoops and hollers sounded from the living room where Hawks is currently entertaining teammates and those associated with them. After he'd sidled up with them, you'd stuck it out for a while, but eventually chosen to retreat back into the kitchen when someone hunched over and spilled their guts into the plant nearest to you.
This isn't the first time you'd been left alone at a party. Last time had been an accident because Keigo had to take someone to the hospital and he'd forgotten to drop you off first. Next time you won't depend on an athlete the weekend before spring break ends. You're swiping through your contacts, hopelessly waiting Nemuri to finish a lecture to drop you off at home or get you out of here. It would be three hours before her lecture ended and you consider getting a cab, but you really want to spend the money on new brushes rather than a needless ride home. You decide against spending money.
You've abandoned one of the best drinks you've ever had at a party, balanced the way you like and not bubbling with four or five different types of booze, and had to abandon it for water. To say you're miffed is an understatement, but the kitchen's atmosphere almost makes up for it.
Thanks to the swinging door a lot of the music is muffled and gives relief from the humid collective of people on the other side of it.
There's a handful of people in the kitchen; a couple that's a little too close to each other, a few singlets that want nothing to do with the party, and a mob of body mod guys nearest to you. A few of the body mod guys you recognize from the time you took Keigo to go get his tattoos filled in but you don't relish in the familiarity. You move to grab another bottle of water, and for the few seconds you peeked out of the kitchen in search of a potential ride home, the kissy faced couple honed in on your corner of kitchen to make out there.
You roll your eyes, swipe out of the transportation app, and lean back on the counter, trying to ignore one of the body mod guys coming near you. It's the one you kind of met and never got his name when you sat with Keigo while he got his tattoos done. You hope he’ll go elsewhere so you won’t have to talk, but alas, your luck isn’t all that great.
“Didn’t think you’d be holed up in here.” the lilted tone of his sounds vaguely amused, but you can’t be sure. “Or here at all.”
Apparently your distinct choice to ignore his presence had gone over his head.
“Calm your tits, it’s a party.” you mumble absent-mindedly.
He’s undeterred, merely sipping on his drink, “You came with bird boy didn’t you?”
“This is a party.” is all you care to say.
“A frat party.” he corrects with an amused lilt, “Didn't think he was your type."
"If it was, I'd have your number." you glance up and his face is still stoic as shit.
“What about Chicken Scratch?”
"What?" You don’t look up from your phone. His straight face makes you nervous. “Hawks?”
“He have to drag you out?”
You tsk, “I don't spend all my time cooped up with him all day.”
“That so?”
You chance a look at him to see how the amusement on his face matches his tone. It doesn't. He's a lot like you remember him from the shop. The black unruly hair, bags underneath the curve of his eyes, the crawling tattoos limited only by the notch of his jaw. He doesn't look at all entertained, his words mismatch his tired eyes.
You favor staring at the deserted conversations of the friends who can't pick you up right now instead of him and hope the bags means he'll fall over so that you can avoid this conversation with him. But when he leans on the counter, you realize he won't be falling over or leaving and sigh.
"I don't know anyone who comes to a party to be in the kitchen." he says over the rim of his cup before he's drinking. "Or not attached to the pigeon."
"He's not my type," is your immediate answer. Then you retract your harsh words for something less insulting than your disgust, "I'd rather not get involved with someone who has his own fan club pursuing him daily."
That earns you a curt huff.
He moves around you, not leaving, but instead to the forgotten keg sitting in the sink to your right. You watch as he tips his head back, empties his cup, then refills it with the beer in the keg you know is warm before he's drinking it down like it's water. "That's disgusting" comes from you before you can think to withhold the words.
"Oh yeah," he agrees as he refills his cup and takes another drink as if it's nothing.
Instead of trying to figure out why he's still drinking from the keg, you pay more attention to trying to unclutter the pizzeria mini game on your phone. The piercer watches for a bit over your shoulder much to your surprise before he's talking again.
“Why'd you come if you're in the kitchen? This doesn't seem like your crowd.”
You look over at him, momentarily remembering how tall he is when you're faced with his chest and tilt your head back to look up at him.
"Free booze sounds great until the shitshow starts up."
Maybe it's your sincerity or the serious expression when you said those words, but he laughs. Short muted huffs turn to deep rumbles of rolling laughter that end a little too soon before he's muttering “a shitshow.” He's refilling his plastic cup before returning to the counter space he once claimed beside you.
"Why are you here?" you ask without looking up. He's not entirely out of place among the other goers, but the looks and avoidance he gets quickly makes you think otherwise.
You should never mention in passing to Touya-nii that you want another ear piercing, not unless you want him pushing you down, pinning your forearms to the floor with his knees, and holding a needle to your ear while he taunts you over what a stupid little crybaby you’re being. Just let him do it, yeah? It won’t hurt, and he’ll make you feel better after, he swears.
Dabi being a brat tamer is so valid. He doesn't even have to say nothing - he just gives you this look and you know you're in biiiig trouble.
Goddd the look that immediately makes your heart drop and a spark light at the base of your spine 😭 I see him as a face-grabber too, just squeezing your sweet face between his thumb and forefingers, making you look at him while his tips of his fingers dig into the fat of your cheeks and he just grins at you, doesn’t even have to say a word for you to know you’re fucked.
