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gingerkunoichii · 28 days ago

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FANART 1 2 3 (i love you) After leaving your old university under a cloud of scandal, you arrive at Konoha University, ready for a fresh start.

Once queen of the party scene, your killer smile and sharp edge left a trail of broken hearts. The drug fuelled nights, bad decisions, and neon-lit chaos follows you. Alpha Kappa Blossom, a sorority with varying characters welcomes you and you feel like you've known these people for a lifetime very quickly—but nothing comes without strings.

Your past still lingers. No matter how loud the music and whatever you take to sedate yourself from reality, you can’t outrun the fallout.

// WARNINGS // Recreational Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Alcohol, Drinking to Cope, Partying, Greek Life, Fraternities & Sororities, Modern AU, Drunk Sex, Bad Decisions, Fratboy Akatsuki, Fratboy Konoha 11, Most Men Being Fuckboys, Sisterhood, Casual Sex, Drug-Induced Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Toxic, Abusive Relationships, Blackmail, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Huge General Trigger Warning

PLEASE READ TAGS ON AO3 FOR MORE INFO

Chapter 1 You had anticipated your first day at Konoha University would be awkward, but reality surpassed expectation in the worst way. The air outside the dorms was thick with the stale scent of overcooked cafeteria food, cigarette smoke, and restless energy. Faded banners proclaiming "Welcome New Students!" hung askew from upper windows, their colours washed out by time and indifference. You adjusted the strap of your worn duffel bag, its weight biting into your shoulder, and wondered—for the hundredth time—if transferring there had been a mistake. This was supposed to be a fresh start, but now it felt like stepping into a world you were never meant to enter.

The dormitory loomed ahead, stark and institutional, its white paint peeling in long strips and identical windows staring blankly into the distance. Swallowing the knot of unease tightening in your chest, you forced yourself through the entrance. The lobby was bedlam—students wandering aimlessly, parents arguing with stressed-out staff, and someone half-heartedly strumming an acoustic guitar in the corner like they were auditioning for a coming-of-age film. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.

Your dorm assignment paper read: Room 314B - Nara Hall. You climbed a narrow, groaning staircase, your heart pounding for no good reason except that everything about this place felt like it was closing in on you. The third-floor hallway smelled faintly of musty carpet and a failing attempt at floral air freshener. After passing a series of identical, chipped doors, you found your room at the very end of the hall.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed the door open.

The room was... cramped. Two twin beds flanked opposite walls, accompanied by mismatched furniture that looked like it had been salvaged from a thrift-store clearance bin. A single window offered a grim view of the cracked, sun-bleached dorm parking lot. One side of the room was starkly empty—but the other side assaulted the senses.

Posters of conspiracy theories and what you assumed to be arcane symbols smothered the walls, tangled with string lights and Polaroid photos of abandoned playgrounds and distorted forest landscapes. A life-sized cardboard cut out of a low-budget sci-fi character stood vigil by the window, holding a sign that read “WELCOME TO THE VOID.”

And there she was—your roommate.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, clad in striped knee-high socks and a worn T-shirt reading “I Talk to Ghosts” in dripping, horror-themed font. Her choppy, dark hair was pinned back with mismatched coffin-shaped clips. As she meticulously painted her nails with toxic-black polish, she hummed an off-key tune.

Her heavily lined eyes snapped up as you entered, widening theatrically.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, dropping the nail polish onto a precariously stacked pile of books labeled Paranormal Phenomena: Volumes 1-6. “You must be the new girl, I was told by the TA that you’d transferred here into second year! I knew you’d show up.”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah. I’m Y/N.”

She leapt from her bed with unsettling enthusiasm. “I’m Izumi! But my coven calls me ‘Nightshade.’ Well, it’s not officially a coven… yet. But it will be. Eventually.”

You just… stared.

“I manifested you,” she continued proudly, gesturing toward a battered Ouija board displayed prominently on her desk. “I did a summoning ritual for a ‘kindred spirit,’ and—” she pointed emphatically at you—“here you are!” Her grin was disturbingly earnest.

For a moment, you seriously considered turning around, walking out, and requesting a new room assignment. But something in the way her expression softened—like she was genuinely hoping you’d stay—gave you pause.

Against all better judgment, you stepped further into the room, dropping your bag onto the empty bed.

“Cool,” you said flatly, masking uncertainty with indifference. “Just… no goat sacrifices or anything.”

Izumi clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “This is going to be so much fun! ”

You already regretted everything.

Before you could even unzip your duffel bag, Izumi— or Nightshade—sprang from her bed like a coiled spring, crossing the room in three long, almost theatrical strides. Her combat boots thudded softly against the scuffed linoleum floor as her long, striped socks scrunched with each step.

“So! What’s your major?” she asked eagerly, tilting her head like a curious raven inspecting something shiny.

“Uh...” you replied cautiously, still adjusting to her overwhelming energy. “I’m majoring in arts.”

Her eyes widened, practically glowing with excitement. “Arts! That’s perfect. You’re probably one of those tortured-artist types who creates things that make people feel uncomfortable... or haunted.” She gestured wildly as if envisioning some dark, twisted masterpiece. “I knew the universe wouldn’t stick me with some boring business major.”

You let out a faint, exasperated sigh and turned back to unzip your duffel bag, already dreading the rest of this bizarre conversation.

“What’s your zodiac sign?” she pressed, undeterred.

“Scorpio,” you answered flatly, figuring it was easier to cooperate than resist.

She let out a delighted, almost sinister laugh, spinning on her heel as if energized by your answer. “ Of course you’re a Scorpio. I could feel the dark, brooding energy when you walked in.” She nodded to herself as though confirming a long-held suspicion.

You sighed inwardly. “What’s yours?” you asked without looking up, folding a well-worn hoodie and stuffing it into the tiny dresser.

“Capricorn sun, Pisces moon, Scorpio rising,” she declared proudly, her hand placed reverently over her chest. “I’m basically a cosmic enigma.”

You paused, glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you had no idea whatever the fuck those words meant. Her expression was deadly serious, as though she truly believed she was some otherworldly being.

Not knowing how to respond, you continued methodically unpacking your clothes, your fingers brushing against a familiar worn book tucked among your things— The Collected Works of Sylvia Plath . You hesitated, then shoved it deeper into the drawer.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she continued, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper.

“Not really,” you admitted, still bent over the drawer.

“Oh, you will, ” she said with a knowing smirk, leaning in slightly like she was sharing a forbidden secret.

You shot her a wary glance. “Right.”

Izumi dramatically leaned against her bedpost, crossing one leg over the other as her combat boot bounced rhythmically against the frame. Her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement, practically devouring every word you spoke.

“Any exes I need to know about? Stalkers? Cursed objects you brought with you?” she asked, her voice equal parts nosy and fascinated.

“Just... normal stuff,” you muttered not wanting to let her know a single thing about you, shutting the drawer a little harder than necessary and wondering how long this interrogation would last.

“Normal is boring, ” she sighed dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder with practiced flair. “But don’t worry— I’ll fix that.”

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, glittering with something between amusement and intent.

You couldn’t tell if she was joking—or making a promise.

Suddenly, Izumi clapped her hands together with a sharp smack . “Oh! There’s going to be a university fair tomorrow for all the new students. They’ll have sororities— bleh .” She stuck her finger dramatically to her mouth and made an exaggerated gagging sound, rolling her eyes with theatrical disdain.

You bit back a smirk despite yourself.

“Clubs... and my club.” Her expression lit up like she had just revealed the meaning of life.

You raised an eyebrow. “Your club?”

“The Supernatural Society!” she declared proudly, throwing her arms wide like she was summoning the spirits themselves. Her combat boots scuffed the linoleum as she took a commanding stance, practically glowing with excitement. “I’m the president, obviously. ”

Of course she fucking is, you thought dryly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s only the most important club on campus,” she continued, pacing dramatically as though delivering a speech to an unseen audience. “We investigate the unknown, explore the unexplained, and seek truths that others are too afraid to uncover.”

She stopped abruptly and jabbed a finger toward you, her gaze piercing. “You should definitely come. Even if you’re technically a second-year, you’re basically new here.”

Izumi leaned in slightly, lowering her voice into something almost conspiratorial. “We could use someone like you.”

Her eyes gleamed with intent, and for a second, you couldn’t tell if she was inviting you—or recruiting you.

You hesitated, trying to suppress a wave of unease. She’s... real fucking intense.

Before you could answer, she launched back into her pitch. “We meet in the old art studio in East Hall. They say it’s haunted—which is perfect for our sessions.” Her fingers flexed like she was already imagining the next eerie ritual. “Candles, chanting... sometimes the lights flicker, but that just adds to the vibe, you know?”

You crossed your arms, studying her carefully. “Do... other people actually join this club?”

Her face lit up with genuine pride. “We have seven members right now. Quality over quantity!” she said quickly, then added, “But honestly, you seem... different. ” Her eyes narrowed slightly, appraising you like she was looking through your skin, searching for something only she could see.

You simply stared into her dark eyes, giving her absolutely nothing to work with. Of course you'd be roomed with an absolute fucking weirdo. Sure you were weird in your own way, but there were such things called boundaries.

“I’ll... think about it,” you said cautiously, already wondering if avoiding this so-called Supernatural Society would be impossible.

Izumi grinned, satisfied. “Good.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you had just agreed to—or what you might’ve gotten yourself into.

After stuffing the last of your clothes into the dresser’s creaky drawers, you let out a weary sigh. Unpacking felt like peeling off a layer of tension, though the strange energy radiating from your roommate, Izumi, never wavered.

Before you could even react, she leapt from her bed. “Alright, enough stalling—we’re going to the university fair.”

“I just unpacked—”

She seized your wrist like an impatient spectre. “No excuses. You’re new. We must stake our claim.” The university quad buzzed with chaotic energy. Booths stretched endlessly in uneven rows, each fighting for attention with blaring music, glittering decorations, and too-loud voices. Flyers fluttered in the breeze, sticking to shoes and swirling like confetti from hell.

A sorority girl with a blinding white smile and neon-pink crop top waved pompoms aggressively from atop a decorated table. “ Join Delta Zeta! ” she screamed, voice sharp enough to pierce metal.

Absolutely fucking not, you thought.

“They reek of fake tan and desperation,” Izumi muttered, sneering.

Students in Greek-letter hoodies patrolled like predators on the hunt. A blonde guy with long hair and a wild grin leaned lazily against a booth marked Sigma Omega Omicron . His sharp blue eyes sparkled with something both inviting and dangerous.

Next to him, a tall, muscular white-haired guy with tattoos covering his arms barked crudely at passers-by. “Oi, you scared of fun or just allergic to living?!” he roared, throwing his arms wide.

The blonde snickered. “Bet you couldn’t handle one party, princess. ”

You halted mid-step, spinning on your heel with a snarky smile. “You’d be surprised.”

His smirk faltered for a split second before returning with twice the arrogance. “ Feisty. I like that.”

Izumi yanked your arm. “Don’t engage with the delinquents.”

“Typical SOO trash,” she hissed, her chopped hair moving briskly as she shook her head. “Don’t even look at them.” Hidan hissed back at her, earning him a quick middle finger. The Sigma Omega Omicron booth radiated chaotic energy, surrounded by a growing crowd of curious onlookers and reluctant recruits. More members emerged like predators circling prey: a tall, muscular guy with piercings and a stitched-together leather jacket—Kisame (Events Coordinator)—stood intimidatingly close to the table, cracking his knuckles for emphasis causing you to roll your eyes.

Behind the table, a lean, pale-skinned man with sharp features and onyx eyes meticulously shuffled through forms like he was managing a hostile takeover rather than a booth for a frat. His nametag read Itachi (Secretary).

The silver-haired man that had been shouting at freshmen plopped himself down, flicking a lighter repeatedly while balancing precariously on a folding chair. His shirt read “Repent Later.” His nametag: Hidan (Social Chair).

Deidara’s name was written dramatically with the role underneath it being smudged to the point you couldn’t read it, the long-haired blonde who had made an ugly pass at you, gestured grandly toward the banner with spray-paint streaks declaring “JOIN SIGMA OMEGA – WE MAKE HISTORY” in bold, messy letters. “Come on, cowards! Live a little!”

“Or don’t,” Hidan added with a wicked grin. “We’re still better than you.”

Izumi muttered darkly, pulling you further away. “They’re like feral dogs in overpriced boots.” Her gaze lingering a little too long on the dark-haired man whose name tag proclaimed him as Itachi.

You couldn’t help but glance back as the crowd erupted into another round of laughter and taunts. What the actual fuck kind of university is this?

Nearby, other booths clamoured for attention: the Literature Society displayed old typewriters under a poetic sign reading “Write Your Own Destiny.” The Astronomy Club had a telescope pointed skyward, even though it was broad daylight. Someone dressed as a medieval knight swung a foam sword near the Historical Reenactment Society booth.

As you wove through the crowd, the atmosphere shifted. Loud music and hooting laughter blasted ahead. A massive banner with electric-blue letters read “DELTA OMEGA STORM - TONIGHT’S ONLY DESTINATION!”

A makeshift DJ booth blared a pounding beat while the group of men at the Delta Omega Storm booth worked the crowd like seasoned pros. Their energy was magnetic, chaotic, and absolutely ridiculous.

A broad-shouldered guy with wild brown hair barked out, “Free drinks for the hot girls, no one else need apply ! ” His sharp-toothed grin gleamed like a warning. His name tag, slapped crookedly across his chest, read: Kiba (Social Chair).

Next to him, a tall guy with long, dark hair and piercing eyes surveyed the crowd with detached coolness, his lean build and folded arms making him seem untouchable.

Another with a varsity jacket and messy blonde hair clapped an unsuspecting freshman on the back. “Delta party tonight ! ” he shouted with cocky ease. “Best night of your life, guaranteed! ” His name tag was peeling at the edges though you could make out his name was Naruto.

Near the booth’s edge, a stoic redhead in a dark hoodie stood like a silent sentinel, his intense gaze sweeping the crowd as though assessing threats—or targets.

A sharp-dressed man with cold, pale eyes stood off to the side, arms crossed as though enduring the chaos for some calculated reason. His posture radiated authority though he looked like he’d rather be running an investment portfolio rather than standing next to a neon party banner.

A quiet figure with round, dark glasses adjusted a flyer display with surgical precision, every motion deliberate and efficient. His intense focus suggested he took his recruitment duties far more seriously than his companions.

Finally, a lanky, bored-looking guy with a perpetual slouch fiddled with a pen, twirling it in fluid, lazy motions. His eyes were half-lidded, giving the impression that existence itself was exhausting. His name tag, stuck on upside down, was impossible to read from the distance you were at.

“Don’t come if you’re gonna be boring ,” he added flatly, drawing easy laughter from nearby girls.

You snorted. The sheer absurdity of their roles being listed so formally on these cheap paper name tags was almost comical. This wasn’t a university fare—it was an overly elaborate invitation to debauchery.

“Want to check it out?” you asked Izumi, half-joking.

She snorted. “ Them? They’re not as bad as SOO... but still... reckless. ”

You smiled faintly. Reckless sounded exactly like what you needed or else you’d bore yourself doing art alone in your room all year– a nightmare in itself, especially seeing your roommate.

Without another word, you shrugged off Izumi’s warning. What the hell . Your so-called fresh start was already spiralling into chaos; you might as well lean into it, just like you did before at your old university, for better or worse.

Izumi sighed in clear disappointment, folding her arms. “I’ll see you later, then. If you have time, you should check out the Supernatural Society booth.”

You barely held back a scoff. “Sure.” Like fuck you were spending another second with her and her cursed objects collection. You’d rather eat glass.

She shot you a long, knowing look before disappearing into the crowd, her dark hair swinging sharply with each step.

You strode confidently toward the Delta Omega Storm booth, shoulders back, chin high. Caution was something you’d never had when making shit decisions.

As you approached, the wild-haired guy—Kiba, according to his name tag—locked onto you with the sharp intensity of a predator sizing up potential prey. His posture shifted, straightening just enough to exude aggressive confidence.

He tilted his head, brazenly dragging his eyes over you like he was inspecting goods at a dodgy market. “You here to actually party, or just look pretty and waste my time?”

The audacity hit you like a slap. Before you could stop yourself, you fired back, “Depends. Are the drinks cold, or are you serving frat-boy delusions on tap?”

His mouth twisted into something between amusement and challenge. “Alright. We could definitely use more of that tonight.”

Behind him, the tall, dark-haired guy—Sasuke, his name tag read—let out a quiet, derisive snort. His sharp, unreadable gaze met yours for a fleeting second before shifting back to the crowd. His lean frame radiated disdain, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes.

“Name?” Kiba asked, already snatching up a flyer from the cluttered stack on the table.

“Y/N.”

His grin widened into something feral. “Y/N, you just earned VIP. Don’t disappoint.” He thrust a glossy, neon-bright invitation into your hand.

You smirked despite yourself. Being reckless was in your nature.

“Hey! You over there!”

Startled, you glanced up to see a sleekly decorated sorority booth positioned directly opposite Delta Omega Storm’s chaotic display. A large pastel-pink banner read Alpha Kappa Blossom (AKB) in elegant cursive. The whole setup was polished, sophisticated, and surprisingly modern—no neon-orange spray-tan disasters in sight.

Finally, some fucking normalcy, much more to my taste.

A tall, striking blonde with piercing blue eyes waved you over, her bright smile practically sparkling under the afternoon sun. Her nametag read “ Ino - Vice President. ” She rested a manicured hand on her hip, her sleek ponytail gleaming like something out of a haircare commercial.

“You look like you belong over here! ” Ino called enthusiastically, gesturing toward the booth’s carefully arranged display of glossy sorority brochures and immaculate floral arrangements.

You hesitated but found yourself walking toward her anyway. After surviving the testosterone-fuelled circus of Delta Omega Storm, this felt... refreshingly normal - she reminded you of your old friends, when things were good between you all at least.

“Welcome to Alpha Kappa Blossom!” Ino beamed, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Ino, Recruitment Chair. You’ve got great energy—I can tell already.”

Her confidence was magnetic but not overbearing. The women stationed around the booth radiated similar charisma—polished, stylish, but undeniably sharp.

You caught glimpses of other girls chatting with prospective members: a dark-haired woman with striking lavender eyes organizing pamphlets with precise care, a tall, athletic brunette adjusting a trophy display, and a petite, pink-haired woman enthusiastically leading a group of freshmen on a booth tour.

You shook Ino’s hand firmly. “Y/N.”

Her smile widened. “Y/N. Love that. Ever considered going Greek?” She tilted her head, studying your expression like she could read between the lines.

You shrugged casually, knowing not to say much. “I was in a sorority at my last university.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of the booth’s sign. “Then you already know how it works! We’re throwing a welcome event tonight—you should definitely come.”

You glanced back toward Delta Omega Storm’s loud, chaotic booth where Kiba was now howling towards a freshman girl something about “body shots.” The contrast was almost laughable.

God, anything’s better than getting stuck with that creepy roommate. You’d sooner dive headfirst into Delta’s questionable pool than spend another evening hearing about manifestation.

“Alright,” you said, flashing a faint smirk. “I’m in.”

“By the way,” you asked smoothly, “do you guys plan to hit the Delta Omega party later?”

Ino’s grin widened knowingly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Totally. After the welcome event, of course. They’re our brother fraternity.” She rested a hand on her hip, radiating effortless confidence.

The dark-haired woman with lavender eyes—whose name tag read Hinata - New Member Educator —approached with a warm, genuine smile that softened her otherwise regal demeanor. “You should come. The parties are... energetic.” Her soft voice carried a hint of amusement, as though she knew far more than she let on. You found it incredibly useful that everyone on these booths were wearing name tags.

Before you could respond, the athletic brunette— Tenten - Event Planner —laughed as she tossed a stack of brochures onto the table, her toned arms flexing slightly. “Delta Omega’s parties are legendary. Just... watch out for Kiba. He thinks he’s charming.” She rolled her eyes affectionately, clearly accustomed to his antics.

You smirked, shifting your weight casually. “Yeah, I met him. Total salesman.”

The pink-haired girl— Sakura - President —returned, practically buzzing with excitement, her energy palpable even in the chaotic fair setting. “You’re definitely coming, right?” Her green eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she handed you a neatly folded invite printed with shimmering gold letters.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said smoothly, already feeling more at home.

Ino clapped her hands together with satisfaction. "Perfect. You’ll fit in here just fine." Her tone was confident, almost like she’d already claimed you for the sorority.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she tilted her head. "So you said something about an old university... are you a freshman?"

"Second-year," you replied casually. "Art major. Transfer student."

Ino’s interest visibly deepened. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was about to uncover the juiciest piece of gossip. "Ooh, transfer? Why’d you switch schools?"

You smirked, savoring the slight tension hanging in the air. "Maybe after a few shots, I’ll tell you."

Ino gasped playfully, pressing a hand to her chest like you’d just issued the ultimate challenge. "I’m holding you to that, if I remember to ask."

As the conversation continued, the sorority girls began filling you in on the night’s itinerary. “We’re hosting a pre-party mixer at our house first,” Tenten explained while rearranging some event flyers with efficient precision. “It’s less... chaotic than Delta’s. But after? We’ll head over together.”

“Think of it as... maintaining balance,” Sakura added with a wry smirk. “A little elegance before absolute madness.”

Hinata nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And it’s tradition to arrive together. It keeps things... coordinated. We do everything with our brother fraternity.”

Coordinated, you thought, amused. They operated like a well-oiled machine, blending genuine friendship with the sharp calculation of practiced social navigators.

Ino leaned in conspiratorially. “Also... word of advice? Don’t let Naruto talk you into any drinking contests.” Her smile turned wicked. “He’s undefeated, and you will regret it.”

Sakura snorted. “He lives for that dumb King of Shots title.”

Tenten chimed in with mock seriousness. “And if you hear someone yelling about ‘legendary feats’—just walk away.”

Your eyebrow twitched upwards in wonderment of whatever the fuck that could even mean. You laughed, imagining the chaos already. “Good to know.”

As you lingered by the booth, you couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they interacted—not just with you, but with each other. They weren’t playing a role or putting on an act. This was their world: stylish, commanding, and irresistibly magnetic.

“See you tonight,” Ino said with a playful wink, waving as she moved on to greet another curious student.

You slipped the invitation into your bag, feeling the spark of anticipation ignite in your chest.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

AO3 LINK so you don't have to scroll :)

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