Quota of Frat Culture
synopsis: everyone on campus seems to have an opinion about Satoru Gojo. frat president. genius. untouchable. you just think he’s irritating. but between late-night study sessions and quiet moments away from the noise, you start to see a different side of him, one no one else seems to notice.
pairings: frat!gojo x uninterested!reader
wc: 2.4k
a/n: i didn't proofread this, so apologies in advance, lmfaoo
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chapter two
The air is still warm as you walk across campus, the last evening sun stretching across the sidewalks.
Your roommate won't stop staring at you.
You pretend like you don't notice.
This lasts for about thirty seconds.
Then she grabs your sleeve.
“Okay”, she says.
You sigh immediately. “Don’t”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t start.”
She stops walking.
You take a couple more steps before you realize she’s no longer beside you. When you turn, she’s standing in the middle of the path, arms folded like she's about to deliver a verdict.
“You,” she says slowly, “are stuck working with Gojo for an entire semester.”
You grimace, “Yes, I’m aware.”
She looks like she's one breath away from screaming.
“I cannot believe this happened to you.”
“Nothing happened”, you mutter. “It’s just a project”.
“With Gojo”
You start walking again.
She jogs to catch up.
“You know every girl in that class was staring at you when the professor announced partners, right?”
“Great,” you say flatly.
“You’re literally living their dream.”
“I can promise you,” you say, “I’m not.”
She bumps your shoulder. “You don't even look impressed.”
“Because i’m not…, why would i be?”
She gives you a look, “because he’s Gojo.”
You roll your eyes, “he seems arrogant.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“And he seems annoying.”
“I don't think that's true either.”
“And he clearly thinks he’s the smartest person in any room he walks into.”
Your roommate snorts, “Well i mean, he kinda is.”
You glance over at her. “Please don’t think you’re one of those people who think that he’s a genius.”
“I heard he finished an entire midterm in fifteen minutes.”
You blink, “...what?”
“Yeah”
That doesn’t sound like the guy from last night, the one who seemed far more invested in getting on your nerves than doing actual work.
Your roommate nudges you again. “So,” she says.
“So?”
“What’s he actually like?”
You think of the smug grin.
“...Unbearable”, you say at last.
She gives you a blank stare, “ I don't think he’s that bad—”
You almost walk straight into someone.
You stop short.
“...Seriously?”
Satoru Gojo is standing right in front of you, grinning like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“Hey,” he says with a wide grin.
Your roommate goes completely rigid beside you.
You narrow your eyes. “Did you block the entire sidewalk?”
“Techinally” he says, “you walked into me.”
You glance around. The path is basically empty.
“...Sure”
He doesn’t bother arguing. Instead, he just tilts his head.
“You never gave me your number.”
You blink, “My—what?”
“For the project,” he says, like it should be obvious.
He pulls out his phone and holds it toward you.
“Unless you want me randomly showing up every time we need to meet.”
You stare at the phone. “...You would that, wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely,” he says with a smile.
You sigh and take it. As you type your number in, you can practically feel your roommate vibrating beside you.
You hand the phone back. “Don't abuse this.”
Gojo hums, “No promises.”
Your phone buzzes a second later.
Unknown Number- Wednesday 3:46
Now you have mine too
You look up just in time to see him walking backwards down the path.
“Cafe tomorrow,” he calls.
You frown. “Wait— what cafe?”
He flashes that infuriating grin. “You’ll figure it out.”
Then he disappears into the crowd.
For a moment, you just stand there staring into your phone.
Slowly, you turn to your roommate.
She looks like she’s about to pass out.
“...you hate him, don't you?” she says weakly.
You sigh, “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Your phone buzzes again.
Unknown Number - Wednesday 3:50
Meet me at the cafe at 4
Don't be late
You stare at the screen.
Then you sigh again, “... I really do.”
“I still cannot believe that just happened.”
You sigh, “It was for the project.”
“That's not the point.”
She throws an arm in the direction he disappeared, like the path itself should be shocked.
“Do you understand what I just watched?”
“Yes,” you say, already tired, “I gave my project partner my number.”
“Your project partner is Gojo.”
“And?”
“And you’re acting like it was normal!”
“Because it was,” you say, walking to your dorm.
Your roommate scrambles to keep up.
“You seriously don't understand how many people on this campus would commit crimes to be in your position right now.”
You give her a blank look. “I promise you,” you say. “They can have it.”
Unfortunately, it turns out they can't
Because the next afternoon, you’re standing outside the busiest cafe on campus with your phone in your hand.
Unknown Number - Thursday 3:58
You’re late
You check the time.
3:59.
You roll your eyes and push open the doors.
The place is packed, students everywhere, laptops open, the smell of coffee strong enough to knock someone awake.
And of course—
Satoru Gojo is already there, lounging in his chair by the window with the project outline already spread out across the table.
When he spots you, that familiar grin spreads across his face.
“Wow,” he says.
“You actually showed up.”
You stop at the edge of the table.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
He tilts his head, amused.”
“I figured there was a decent chance you would try to drop the class to avoid me.”
You pull out the chair across from him and sit.
“If i wanted to avoid you,” you say, dropping your bag beside the table, “I would’ve done it yesterday.”
Gojo lets out a quiet laugh.
“Good to know.”
Your eyes drift to the stack of paper in front of him.
“... you already started?”
“Obviously.”
He pushes the assignment sheet toward you.
“Did you even read the prompt?”
You frown and skim the page.
“Of course I read it,” you say with a scoff.
“Then you would’ve noticed the professor basically handed us the thesis.”
You look up at him.
“He did not.”
Gojo taps the page with one finger.
“Second paragraph. Right there.”
You look again.
And—annoyingly—
He’s right.
You lower the paper slowly.
“You memorized the whole assignment already?”
Gojo shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“I read it once or twice.”
You stare at him.
“For how long?”
“I don't know, maybe a couple of minutes.”
You narrow your eyes.
“That's ridiculous.”
He leans back in his chair, amusement written all over his face.
“You’re gonna have a long semester if you keep looking at me like that.”
You cross your arms.
“Maybe I’m just trying to figure out if you’re serious.”
“Oh, im serious,” Gojo says without missing a beat.
He flips the assignment sheet over and picks up a pen.
Before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s already writing.
You watch the pen move.
One line.
Another.
A third.
You lean in slightly.
“...what are you doing?”
“Outlining.”
“That fast!?”
Gojo doesn't even look up.
“If we follow the argument the professor basically handed us, the structure is obvious.”
A few seconds later, he slides the paper across the table to you.
You stare down at it.
A full outline, introduction, three main points, and conclusion, already sketched out.
You blink.
“...you did this right now.”
Gojo finally looks up.
“Well, yeah,” he says. “What else were we gonna do?”
You look at the page again.
It’s not just fast.
It’s actually good.
You lift your eyes back to him slowly.
“... I hate that this makes sense.”
Gojo grins.
“You're welcome.”
Before you can respond, a shadow falls across the table.
“Gojo?”
You look up.
A girl stands beside the table, clutching a notebook to her chest. She looks a little nervous.
Gojo exhales under his breath.
It’s quiet, but you hear it.
“Yeah?” he says.
“Sorry to bother you,” she blurts, “i just had a question about the econ assignment from last week. I heard you finished it, and was wondering if you could maybe explain—”
Gojo rubs the back of his neck.
“The question for the homework is literally the example from the book.”
The girl blinks. “Oh.”
“Chapter four,” he adds flatly, “Second example.”
She hesitates, like she expected… something else.
“Oh. Okay”
A beat of awkward silence follows.
Then she nods quickly, “Thanks.”
She disappears into the crowd.
You watch her go, then back at Gojo.
He’s already picking up his pen as if nothing happened.
“...that was kind of rude,” you say.
Gojo glances up, “she asked.”
“You could’ve been nicer.”
He shrugs. “She didn’t want help.”
You frown, “What do you mean?”
“She wanted me to do it for her.”
You blink, “Does that happen a lot?”
“Constantly”
He taps the outline with the end of his pen.
Then that familiar, irritating grin returns.
“But don’t worry,” he says.
“I actually like arguing with you.”
You narrow your eyes.
“That's not the compliment you think it is.”
Gojo laughs.
After another twenty minutes of debating sources and structure, Gojo snaps his notebook shut.
“We should probably move.”
You frown, “Move where?”
“My place.”
You stare at him. “...your frat house?”
“Yeah.”
You hesitate. “You do realize there's a party happening right now?”
Gojo raises his brow, “How did you know?”
“My frat-loving roommate told me.”
Gojo sighs.
“But yes, unfortunately, I know that there's a party happening right now.”
“Then why should we go there?”
“Because,” he says, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “The library’s closed tonight.”
He looks down at you.
“And my room is quieter than this.”
You glance around the cafe.
It’s even louder than when you arrived, voices overlapping, blenders roaring, music drifting from somewhere near the counter.
You let out a long breath and stand.
“...Fine”
Gojo smiles like he won something. “See? You’re learning.”
“I’m not learning anything.”
“You’re learning to trust me.”
You roll your eyes. “That’s definitely not happening.”
The music is pounding hard enough to shake the windows before you even reach the house.
You stop on the sidewalk.
“...Okay. So you weren’t exaggerating.”
The frat house looks exactly like it did a couple of days ago, lights blazing, people spilling across the lawn, the bass rattling the street.
Gojo doesn’t pause.
He walks right past the front door without a second thought.
You blink. “Wait—”
He glances back, “We’re not going in that way.”
“Why not?”
“Too many bodies.”
He tilts his head toward the side of the house.
You follow him around the corner, stepping over some abandoned cups and weaving between clusters of people talking in the grass.
Someone opens the front door, and the music blasts out even louder than before.
Gojo visibly flinches.
“...you really hate this, don’t you?” you say.
He shoots you a look over his shoulder.
“What gave it away?”
“You kinda look like you’re being tortured.”
Gojo chuckles, “You’re not far off.”
You stare at him, “but you live here.”
“Unfortunately”
He pulls open a side door, much quieter, and gestures for you to go in first.
The change is instant.
The hallway is dim, mostly empty, and the noise from the party is muffled to a distant thump.
Gojo exhales like he’s finally able to breathe again.
Then he nods down the hall.
“Come on.”
You follow him up the stairs.
The upstairs hallway is noticeably calmer than the rest of the house.
Not quiet, the bass still hums faintly through the walls, but compared to the chaos downstairs, it's almost peaceful.
Gojo stops at a door and pushes it open.
“Here.”
You step inside and freeze.
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't this.
The room is surprisingly tidy.
A desk sits against the wall, covered in neatly stacked books and papers. His laptop is already open, the screen filled with what looks like notes.
A whiteboard hangs beside the desk, half-erased formulas still ghosting across it.
You glance back at him.
“...This is your room?”
Gojo drops his bag onto the chair.
“Shocking, right?”
“You live in a frat house.”
“And?”
“I thought it would be…messier.”
He snorts.
“That’s what the downstairs is for.”
He pulls out the desk chair and gestures toward the bed.
“Sit.”
You hesitate for a moment, then set your bag down and sit on the edge of the bed.
Gojo drags the chair closer until he’s facing you.
Then he flips open his notebook again.
“Alright,” he says. “Where were we?”
You lean in a little, looking over the outline.
Your shoulders nearly touch when he leans in at the same time.
Both of you pause.
Gojo glances sideways at you.
“...You’re in my space.”
“You leaned in first.”
“Debatable.”
You roll your eyes and reach for the outline again. “Whatever. Are we actually working, or did you bring me here to argue with me?”
Gojo smirks slightly.
“Why not both?”
You lean over the notebook, tapping one of the bullet points.
“I still think that this part should come before the policy section.”
“It can’t,” Gojo says immediately.
“Why not?”
“Because the data backs the second claim first.”
You frown, “That's not how arguments are supposed to work.”
“Sure it is.”
You’re about to fire back—
When a phone buzzes sharply against the desk.
The sound cuts clean through the room.
Gojo glances down.
And for the first time since you met, something shifts.
The amusement drains from his face.
Your eyes flick to the screen.
Dad
Gojo exhales through his nose, slow and irritated.
“You’re not gonna answer that?” you ask.
He doesn’t respond at first.
The phone keeps buzzing.
Finally, he picks it up and stands.
“I’ll be right back.”
He steps into the hallway and pulls the door mostly shut.
You can’t hear everything, just fragments.
“...yeah.”
A pause.
“No, I already told you—”
Another pause.
His voice drops lower.
“I know.”
Silence.
Then—
“I said I know.”
The tone is nothing like the one he uses with you.
Flat.
Cold.
After a moment, the hallway goes quiet again.
The door opens.
Gojo walks back in and sets his phone on the desk.
He doesn’t sit.
You watch him for a second.
“...Everything okay?”
He picks up his pen, expression blank again.
“Yeah.”
You don't miss how short his answer is.
He taps the notebook once.
“Where were we?”
But the air in the room feels different now.
And you can’t shake the sense that Satoru Gojo is a lot more complicated than the guy who likes arguing with you over homework.
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