#haibara

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 ┅ 𝖥𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗒! 𝖦𝗈𝗃𝗈 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗎 & 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰’𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵. ﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚

NOTE: Header by @neverrisa on tt.

The invitation came in the form of a blurry Snapchat story screenshot.

No RSVP link, just somebold white text slapped over a black background:

SIGMA PI HOUSE FIRST PARTY OF THE YEAR DON’T BE LAME

Underneath it, tagged location: Off-Campus @ the quad. Under that, thirty-seven skull emojis.

You stared at your phone like it had personally insulted you.

“I’m not going to this the hell,” you said flatly, not looking up.

Across the dorm room, your best friend was already elbow-deep in her closet, yanking out the tiniest clothes with to much energy, even though she had an 8 am that morning. “You are absolutely going.”

“No, I’m absolutely not.”

She popped up, holding a tiny black dress like it was Excalibur. “Geto Suguru will be there.”

You blinked. “The cult-leader-looking philosophy major?”

“The hot cult-leader-looking philosophy major,” she corrected. “We shared a blunt once.”

“That is not a relationship.”

“That is intimate as fuck, I won’t let him slip through my fingers. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I just got out of a long term relationship. I want to drink box wine and emotionally dissociate, not go to a frat party where someone named Kyle punches the wall.”

She scoffed. “First of all, Sigma Pi doesn’t have Kyles. They have-” she waved her hand vaguely, “-I don’t know what they have but they’re all cute.”

That did not help.

Sigma Pi was infamous.

Everyone on campus knew it. The biggest, loudest, most unhinged frat that somehow never got shut down despite noise complaints, missing furniture, and at least one rumor involving a stolen garbage truck and the dean’s koi fish’s.

And at the center of it all.

“Gojo Satoru,” your friend continued, wiggling her eyebrows. “He’s allat, and I know you want a piece of it.”

You groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Everyone knew him, too.

Senior, frat president. He’s tall, loud, attractive in a way that felt illegal for someone who once allegedly did a keg stand off the roof. White hair, stupid grin, sunglasses indoors. He was a known player, known flirt, and known menace to women who thought they were immune.

You were women who were immune.

Or at least, you planned to be.

—

The night air was thick with bass before you even reached the house.

Music pounded through the walls, the windows glowing with different coloured LED’s like something was actively combusting inside. People spilled across the lawn, red solo cups everywhere, someone already throwing up in the nicely trimmed bushes.

You paused at the gate.

“This is a bad idea,” you said.

Your friend squeezed your arm. “You said that about dating your ex.”

You grimaced. “…Fine.”

Inside was chaos.

The smell of weed and cheap alcohol hit first. Then the noise, laughing, shouting, the house music deafening. Someone ran past you carrying a traffic cone, a couple was making out sensually near the coat rack.

And there, right in the center of it all, like the eye of the storm.

Gojo Satoru.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, white hair slightly damp like he’d just came back from the gym. Black tee, chain necklace, stupid confident posture. One arm slung around Sukuna, who looked close to biting off his finger, while Geto stood nearby, calm and smug, sipping something amber and dark from a glass.

Gojo laughed at something, head tipping back.

It might’ve been through sheer luck, or fate, but whatever it was you’d be sure to curse it.

His eyes landed on you.

You felt it immediately. That slow, deliberate scan. The way his grin sharpened just a fraction, like he’d spotted prey.

“Oh no,” you muttered.

Your friend squinted her eyes and followed your gaze. “What do you mean… oh, yes.”

Gojo nudged Sukuna, murmured something. Sukuna snorted. Geto glanced over, briefly curious, then amused.

And then Gojo was moving.

He crossed the room like he owned it. Like everyone else was background noise. You took a sip from the cup your friend shoved into your hand, already regretting everything.

He stopped in front of you, too close, and way too tall.

“Yo,” he said, voice lazy, confident. “Haven’t seen around here before.”

You met his gaze, unimpressed. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He laughed. “You got a name, or do I gotta make one up?”

“You can leave, is what you can do.”

His eyebrows shot up, delighted. “You’re no fun.”

You leaned past him, pretending to look for an exit. “I’m a little busy.”

“With what?” he asked.

“Not hooking up with you.”

That got a reaction.

Sukuna cackled from across the room, slapping his had on the counter. “Damn, Prez.”

Nanami, standing near the stairs with a beer, sighed. “He’s so dumb.”

Gojo pressed a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” you said sweetly. “You flirt, then you ghost.”

He grinned wider. “Sounds like you’ve been stalking me.”

You turned away.

He followed.

“Oh come on sweetie,” he said. “One drink with me, that’s all I’m askin’ for.”

“No.”

“One dance maybe?”

“No.”

“One-”

“No.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “No way, is this what it’s like to be rejected?”

Haibara patted his shoulder as he passed by, grinning. “Unc behavior, man.”

“Shut up dude,” Gojo snapped, then looked back at you, eyes bright. “Okay lady, challenge accepted.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t an invitation, and don’t call me lady.”

“Too late,” he said.

You scoffed, taking another drink, ignoring the way your pulse had picked up.

This was going to be a long night.

—

You lost your friend somewhere between the kitchen and the backyard.

One second she was right next to you, mid-rant about how Geto definitely remembered her name this time, and the next she was gone, absorbed into the mass of bodies, music, and sweaty clothes.

You checked your phone. No battery. Of course.

“Great,” you muttered, already annoyed.

You pushed through the living room, scanning faces. No luck. The house felt bigger now, like it had expanded just to spite you. You tried the hallway, peeked into a room, you notice the empty packs of condoms on the floor. This was definitely not where you wanted to be, and finally ended up in the kitchen.

It was quieter there. Still loud, but not unhinged.

Sukuna was perched on the counter, hoodie half-zipped, a blunt hanging lazily between his fingers. He was staring at the fridge, so intently he could puncture the metal lining.

“You look like you’re about to fistfight the fridge,” you said.

He glanced over. “It ate my leftovers. No that might’ve been Naoya.”

“That sounds personal.”

“It was ramen too,” he groaned. “I was saving it.”

You laughed, surprising yourself, and leaned against the counter opposite him. “Have you seen a girl with crazy blond hair and zero self-preservation instincts?”

He took a drag, ghosting the hit. “That narrows it down to about seventy percent of this house.”

“Wearing a skirt, can’t shut up about Geto.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, no still down to like fifty percent of the house.”

You sighed. “Fantastic.”

He hopped off the counter, opened a cabinet, and immediately frowned. Then he opened a few more. “Why do we never have real food around here?”

“Because this is a frat,” you said. “The bar for basic living is on the floor.”

He finally found a bag of Miss Vickie’s chips, he whispered a quiet ‘score’ under his breath and tore it open. “You want some?”

“Sure.”

You ate in silence for a second, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the chaos, like this was a completely normal interaction.

Sukuna broke it first after his phone dinged and he checked the notification. “Dating here sucks.”

You blinked. “…Yeah.” Probably a girl he got wrapped up in texting him.

“Big campus, thousands of people, and somehow everyone’s either emotionally unavailable, stupid or lying.”

“Or all of the above,” you added.

He nodded. “Everyone hooks up, no one commits.”

“And if they do,” you said, “it’s either toxic or lasts three weeks.”

“Exactly,” he said, pointing a chip at you. “You get it.”

You smiled faintly. “I just got out of something long-term. Feels like I wasted my prime for someone who couldn’t even text back consistently.”

“Shits brutal,” he said. “So real though.”

There was no flirting, no weird tension, just two people bonding over shared disappointment and some stale chips.

Then, an arm slung itself around Sukuna’s neck from behind.

“Why are you bonding with my party guests without me~” Gojo’s voice sang out.

Sukuna scowled instantly. “Get off.”

Gojo tightened his arm just enough to be annoying. “No way.”

Sukuna puffed out his cheeks, visibly pouting. “We had a pact.”

Gojo grinned. “We have many pacts.”

“No,” Sukuna said sharply. “The one pact. No stealing each other’s girls.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your girl?”

Gojo finally noticed you were still there. His grin faltered, just a little.

“I-” He laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t say-”

“She’s not,” Sukuna said immediately. “Relax. I was just talking.”

Gojo squinted at him. “About what?”

“How dating here is trash,” you said.

Gojo snorted. “That checks.”

Sukuna shoved him off. “Anyway. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “You’re embarrassing me man.”

While they bickered, you slipped away, quietly. By the time Gojo noticed, you were already gone.

He blinked. “Wait, where’d she go?”

Sukuna smirked. “Damn. Lost her again.”

Gojo groaned. “Shut up, you did that on purpose.”

—

Outside, the air was cooler. The noise dulled just enough to think.

That’s when you spotted Shoko, she was also a senior majoring in anatomy and microbiology. She didn’t look like much but she’s kept her 4.0 GPA since first year.

She was sitting on the grass with a few girls, legs crossed, cigarette tucked between her fingers, passing around a comically large bottle. Someone handed you a shot without asking.

“Drink,” Shoko said. “You look like you need it.”

You did. You took it, coughed, and laughed.

They passed a blunt next. The conversation drifted easily, complaints about tuition, professors who didn’t answer emails, how every syllabus lied about workload.

“Why do men think saying ‘I’m busy’ absolves them of emotional responsibility?” one girl asked.

“Because they’re cowards,” Shoko said.

You laughed. “I love you already.”

She smirked. “I know.”

Somehow, Gojo came up.

“He’s annoying,” Shoko said immediately. “Always has been.”

“Since when?” you asked.

“Childhood,” she said. “Unfortunately.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You grew up together?”

“Oh yeah, he’s loud, dramatic, thinks he’s funny,” she said. “But…he’s not all bad. Never done anyone dirty, just dumb.”

That surprised you.

Before you could respond-

“SHOKOOOO-”

Gojo appeared, dragging a very crossed Geto behind him like a tired parent. Geto waved weakly.

“Please take him,” Gojo begged.

Shoko stood up. “Absolutely not.”

“You owe me,” Gojo said.

“You owe me,” she shot back, then pointed back to the house. “Leave.”

A scream cut through the air.

Someone jumped off the roof.

Chaos erupted.

While everyone ran toward the noise, Gojo grabbed your wrist.

“Come with me,” he said quickly.

Before you could protest, he pulled you toward a fire escape stair case, leading up to a quiet balcony outside his room.

The music faded. The night settled.

You leaned against the railing, catching your breath.

“So,” you said. “You kidnap all your guests?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled.

Before you knew it you started to talk, about school, music. How his twin brother was a nerd who corrected his grammar all the time. About love being messy and timing being worse.

He wasn’t trying to impress you.

And for the first time, you thought.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

Back in the yard, Shoko handed Geto a bottle.

“Satoru’s gonna owe me one,” she said.

“For what?” Geto asked.

“For making him sound good.”

She smiled, throwing a beer can in the trash.

.

.

Shit the boys send you…

Stuff you take…