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emilysslvt · 11 months

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Halloweekend

Halloween was always your favorite, and even though you were a college student studying to be an FBI agent, you always loved to party. Until your professor, Emily Prentiss, saw you extremely intoxicated.

happy halloween everyone, have a good day :) i'll enjoy it being high. веселиться 🥂

warnings: swearing, smut, drinking, smoking

Halloweekend was your favorite time of the year, to dressing up slutty, going to frat parties, and drinking like you're 16 all over again. Since you started criminology, you never really did stuff like that anymore. But your best friend begged and begged until you finally gave in.

She sat on your bed, waiting for you to show her your outfit. You didn't want to go too revealing, so you wore a skirt and a cropped shirt. You went as Freddy Krueger.

You told her to open her eyes, and she clapped. "Oh, yes! Finally, something other than your boring regular clothes. We are going to have the best night tonight!" She exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes at the comment, "thank you, Max. Just what I needed tonight. My professor has assigned a lot of work, and I need to relax." Picking up your purse, you held your hand out for Max and she gratefully took it.

"Professor Prentiss again? She never gives you a break! Always on your ass and no one else's." Max huffed, as you both left your dorms and made your way across campus.

You laughed slightly, "I know. Today she yelled at me because I was on my phone, but some kid was on his too and she didn't say anything to him. It was a text from my mom, I am usually never on it."

Max shrugged, "maybe she has a crush on you." You slapped her arm, and she laughed.

"Yeah, right. She's too professional for that. But I wouldn't be opposed to it, she's so fucking fine." You admitted. You always had a small crush on her, no matter how intimidating she was. In fact, that made her so much hotter.

You and Max continued your conversation until you got to the frat party. You easily got in, as you both knew who was in the frat. Plus, they loved young hot women.

As soon as you got in there, you were handed shots. Max hit her shot glass against yours, and you both downed them. It was like that for the next 3 hours. You had lost count on how many shots you had, and how many times you lost Max. She always did that at parties, you should've known by now.

It was almost 2am, and you had classes in the morning. Once you came to the realization, you made your way out of the house. Not without stumbling, and almost dropping all of your shit. You hated walking alone, but you knew Max was definitely with some guy. You were on your own for the night.

Half way to your dorm, you needed to sit down. You were tired, and about to pass out. You sat on the grass, grabbing a cigarette from your bag. You lit it, and sat there smoking. Yes, the grass was dirty and gross but you didn't care at the time.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You heard your name, and you opened your eyes. You looked up at the mysterious woman standing in your view, and your mouth slightly dropped.

You put your sober face on, which wasn't convincing at all. "Oh shit. Professor Prentiss!"

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing outside at 2am smoking a fucking cigarette?" She asked, bending over to get a better view of you.

"Oh, well.. you know. Regular Saturday night." Your words slurred, barely making any sense.

Your professor looked frustrated, and she sighed. "Come on. Get up." She held her hand out for you, and you took it. As she pulled you up, you stumbled and dropped your cigarette.

You were sad, looking down at it. "Aw man. I can't believe I dropped it." As you went to pick it up, you almost fell right along with your cigarette. Your professor immediately grabbed your waist, holding you in place.

She sighed, holding you up. "How much did you fucking drink? Where is your dorm? And why are you walking by yourself? That's dangerous, and you out of all these students should know that." Your professor said, wrapping your arm around her shoulder.

"Hahaha I don't really know where my dorm is. And my friend is definitely being fucked by a frat guy right now." You said, giggling to yourself. You barely made any sense, but to yourself it made sense. Well, barely.

"How do you not kn- you know what? You'll stay at my house until you're sober." Your professors tone was off, she sounded pissed. But at the same time, you were too drunk to notice. Or care.

The rest of the night was a blur, you fell asleep on your professors bed but you couldn't remember that. You woke up the next morning, cursing at yourself from how bad your hangover was.

Once your eyes were able to open, you realized you weren't in your dorm. You started to panick, thinking the worst. Up until your professor walked in with a cup in her hand.

She made her way towards you, placing the cup in front of you. "Thought you might need this." You smiled, taking it from her and immediately drinking it. The warm feeling hitting your lips made you feel like a winter day when you had a snow day.

Your professor sat next to you, watching you closely. "Do you remember anything from last night?" You placed the cup on the nightstand next to her bed, as you tried to recollect your thoughts.

You shrugged, deciding to be honest. "I remember before the party. Half hour at the party. That's about it. I think I blacked out immediately. Max told me I needed to blow off some steam, and so I kept taking shot after shot."

She sighed, running her tongue along her lip as she pulled her lip between her teeth. Your eyes watched her tongue, as you always thought that was extremely hot.

"I found you outside around 2am, you were in the grass smoking a cigarette. You couldn't remember where your dorm was. I hope you know that was extremely dangerous, and there are other ways to blow off steam rather than drinking yourself to death." She went on. You knew she was right, and hearing what you did was a tad embarrassing. Now she knew you smoked, and that you were an idiot for forgetting your dorm room.

"And how do you blow off steam, professor?" You asked, tilting your head. She smirked, shaking her head. She avoided the question, and she stood up.

Your professor stood rather close to you, and you watched her eyes quickly dart from your chest back up to your eyes. "You have class in 45 minutes, would you like to go back to your dorm to get ready?"

"I asked you a question, professor. How do you blow off steam?" You were curious as to why she avoided the question. Plus, you didn't want to leave. The way she made you feel like a teenage girl every time her eye lingered your body, or the way she talked in a low tone.

She took a moment to think. Her lips parted, but no words came out. You watched the smirk form on her lips, "would you like me to show you?" You bit your lip nervously, watching as she leaned over you. You felt her breath on your neck, making you lean your head back a bit.

She grew impatient, waiting for your response. "You need to learn your lesson from last night, don't you think?" She whispered in your ear, as she bit the tip of your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You never wanted something so bad. Scratch that. Needed. "Yes, professor."

Her smirk grew, pushing you against her bed. You propped yourself up by your elbows, as she straddled your lap. "Perhaps you need to be punished?"

"I didn't do anything that bad to be punished, professor." You stated. You knew you did, but arguing with an older woman was always fun. And hot.

She leaned down, pressing her lips to your neck as her hand dragged down your body. "No? So getting drunk to forget your problems wasn't bad, hm?" Her lips grazed your neck, as she got closer to your lips. "Or walking by yourself at 2am? Becoming a profiler, you should know better than that." The gap between your lips was killing you. She was so close, but so far.

Her hand slipped under your cropped shirt, her finger grazed the bottom of your bra making you crave her touch even more. "Please touch me.."

With her free hand, she drew the outline of your jaw with her finger. "Do you think you deserve it?"

At this point? Yes. It was torture. The way she slightly touched you, turning you on by barely even touching you. "No.. but I need you." Your words came out in a whisper, but she was happy with the answer.

Your professor ran her hand along your neck, pushing your head to the side. "Tell me how bad you need me."

You were impatient, you needed her now. "Please touch me, professor. I need you. I crave your touch." You sounded pathetic, but professor Prentiss seemed to like it.

"Good girl." Her hand kept a grip on your neck as she slammed her lips against yours, her knee pushed your legs apart as she pressed it against where you needed her most. The kiss was filled with desperation and lust, the way she bit your bottom lip, how it felt so wrong but yet so right.

Her knee pushing against you made you softly moan against her lips, and you felt her smirk. You loved it when she did that. As she pulled away, she bit your bottom lip. You whined at the loss of contact, but her lips soon found your neck. Your hands found her hair as she sucked on your soft skin, leaving a hickey.

Her hand wandered down your stomach, until it found your the hem of your skirt. She slid her hand into your skirt, and she circled your clothed clit, as she lifted her head to whisper in your ear. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes. Please, touch me. Please."

"Needy, are we?" Her tone was low, filled with lust and dominance. You were so turned on, you needed her so fucking bad. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt her fingertips cirling your clit. Her pace was slow, painfully slow. You were so desperate and needy even though her lips were on your neck, and her fingers were on your clit.

Emily lifted her head, "take your shirt off." As she was still keeping her slow pace, you slightly lifted yourself up, pulling your shirt off. Her eyes immediately found your breasts, and with her free hand she unclipped it, letting it fall to the side of her bed.

Her pace sped up as she slightly leaned over, circling your nipple with her tongue before pulling it between her teeth. Soft moans left your mouth as she sucked on your nipple, and her fingers were working your clit. You never felt so good before, and it felt even better just by being fucked by your professor.

Your head fell fell backwards into the pillows as she slid one of her fingers inside of you, making you moan her name softly. Emily bit your nipple before she moved onto your next one, while she slid another finger inside of you. Her hand hit your clit, making you moan louder. Emily loved the sound that left your mouth, and she pushed her fingers deeper into you, hitting your g-spot.

You felt your orgasm approaching, feeling the familiar knot form in your stomach. "Oh, fuck.. I'm going to cum." The words came out in a stutter, as you had barely any thoughts. There was no response from the older women, she just fucked you deeper and faster. Moans and curse words left your mouth, you were so fucking close. Your back arched as you were on the edge of your orgasm, her hand brushing against your clit, her mouth sucking on your nipples, and her fingers so deep inside of you. You were about to cum, but Emily immediately stopped. She removed her fingers from inside of you, and she stopped sucking on your breasts as she looked up at you.

Your professor had her fingers in her mouth. She looked so fucking hot, but you were pissed. You needed that orgasm, and she just stopped.

She sucked her fingers clean, waiting for you to catch your breath. "That should teach you to behave, hm? Maybe next time I'll let you cum. As for now, we have class in ten." Her lips formed a smirk, as she leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips. You were mad at her, but her lips were so fucking soft.

As she pulled back, she bit your lip. "There's no time to go back to your dorm, so take a quick shower and meet me in class. Wear my clothes, because if you show up to class like that I'll have to punish you again."

You nodded, and she smiled. She placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and she got up. "After class, I'll be able to take care of you properly. I'll make it up to you, okay?" Her tone was soft, and it made you want her even more.

It was safe to say that wasn't a one time thing. Both of you enjoyed that too much. Maybe it was because it was wrong, but even then it felt right.

#criminal minds #paget brewster #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily x reader #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss #lqbtq #smut #fan fiction #fanfic #fantasy #halloweekend #professor and student #maybe part 2?

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lovely-van · 4 years

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emily (part one)

Of course she had feelings for him. How could she not? Van was fucking perfect. But she didn’t want to tell him that. Emily was so used to being alone mostly, only casually dating guys, cutting things off if it seemed like too much. And she really, really didn’t want to let him in. But Van was doing his best to work his way into her life.

word count: 11k+

warnings: language, some smut, drug use etc

notes: i am so so sorry that it took me this long to post!!! i’ve honestly been just kind of relaxing since finals ended and it took me a while to edit but here is part one! also this isn’t a song fic i just didn’t know what else to name it hahaha and this is def not my fav story but it was the first piece i wrote so here ya go :)

Emily always loved parties. She loved them in high school and even more so now that she was a few years into college. Although she didn’t prefer to be the life of the party per se - she wasn’t quite outgoing enough - she just loved the atmosphere. All of the people drinking too much, dancing, making mistakes and living out their youth. Her mother always gave her the same disappointed look when she went out on a Saturday night in high school. Emily would roll her eyes, grab her jacket, and groan, “Mom, don’t look at me like that.” Emily’s mom would just shake her head and mutter something about how at least she had good grades.

Tonight was no different. It was the last Saturday before fall semester started, the last chance to let loose before classes and endless schoolwork began. Emily sat in front of her bathroom mirror, applying mascara while her friend Mary fumbled around with the speaker. “Mary, I’m dying in this silence. What the fuck are you doing with that thing?”

Mary let out a frustrated groan. “The bluetooth isn’t working. I swear I’m gonna fucking break it!” Suddenly rap music started blasting from the small speaker. Mary let out a little scream which drew a chuckle from Emily. “Finally,” Mary muttered. She slid into the bathroom behind Emily, plugging in her curling iron.

“I can’t believe summer’s over already,” Emily said, finishing up her highlighter. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror and figured she looked good enough. It was still so hot being early September she couldn’t even think about wearing a jacket, especially knowing how hot the frat houses would be.

“Ugh, I know. And we only have one year left after this!” Mary whined. Both Mary and Emily were juniors at their college while their other roommates were all sophomores. This led to them feeling really old and nostalgic often, even though they were really only halfway through their college career. Carson, one of their younger roommates, always teased them about being old women. Mary and Emily would object to this immediately, of course, putting up a fight about how they couldn’t even legally drink yet.

Emily nodded sadly in agreement, spraying on a little perfume. She left the bathroom and ran down the stairs, tightening the little pigtails she had put in for the half-up look she was digging lately.

Carson and Spencer, the other roommates, were all downstairs drinking already. They were playing some video game and occasionally shouting at it. Just as Emily passed the door at the bottom of the steps, it opened. Emily jumped, laughing when she saw it was Spencer’s girlfriend, Sarah. “You scared the shit out of me!” Emily said as Sarah giggled too.

“My bad,” Sarah said. She walked in, taking a seat right next to Spencer who wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning over to kiss her. The two were high school sweethearts and very much in love, which disgusted pretty much everyone else in the apartment. But they were cute and so happy together that the rest of their friends put up with them.

“Hi babe,” Spencer said, kissing her one more time before going back to playing. Emily fixed herself a drink and hoped to get a little buzzed by the time they left.

---

The party was in full force by the time the five of them arrived. Emily did manage to get a decent buzz going which helped when she looked around at the disgusting scene of the party. Frat parties were like no other, people grinding throughout the whole dance floor, couples making out wherever they wanted, and the floor was always sticky. Emily and Mary snagged a couple drinks from the makeshift bar in the kitchen that was really just the island and made their way into the dance floor. The DJ was playing very questionable music which was annoying to Emily since her favorite thing about parties was dancing.

Despite the shitty music that consisted of mostly shitty remixes, Emily and Mary danced hard to every song. After a few minutes, they bumped into a few people they knew who were complaining about the summer ending. They chatted for a bit, trying to discuss their upcoming schedules for the school year when they were interrupted by someone on a microphone. “Alright so clearly, Dylan here sucks as a DJ. This was his tryout and he failed. So my boy Max is gonna take over!” The crowd cheered and Emily almost felt bad for poor Dylan until the new DJ started playing some really good throwback songs. Immediately, Emily and Mary felt much better, dancing way harder and sweating even more. The other thing about frat parties is they were always so fucking hot.

Emily noticed that Carson seemed to be interested in this really short girl near them, which was pretty funny because Carson was 6’5. She was happy to see him lean down and start talking to her, and within a few minutes she was standing in front of him somehow managing to dance despite the height difference. Looking around, there were definitely a few attractive guys but none that particularly stuck out to Emily. Oh well, the night’s early.

After a few minutes, Emily’s hair started sticking to the side of her face and she knew she needed a break. “Do you wanna take a shot?” Emily shouted at Mary who nodded eagerly. The two trekked through the crowd, weaving their way through all the sweaty people. They reached the bar, passing Spencer and Sarah in the corner, giggling to themselves. “Do you guys have tequila?” Emily shouted at the bartender who nodded. She put up two fingers and smiled, “thanks!” He poured some tequila into two dixie cups and shoved them over.

“Tequila? You’ve got to be out of your mind, love.” Emily nearly choked on the shot in surprise. Love? She managed to swallow again and looked to her right. Leaning against the wall was a tall, almost ridiculously attractive man. His large hand engulfed the red solo cup that he took a sip out of. He pushed his hair back with the other hand, leaving it annoyingly perfectly tousled. He smirked at Emily.

“What’s wrong with tequila?” she questioned, leaning on the bar with one hand.

The guy wrinkled his nose. “Can’t stand the stuff. Got real fucked off it one night and well, y’know.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen. One of my friends took a shot of it once and then threw up all over the dude next to her,” Emily laughed.

The guy chuckled and took another sip. “Glad you didn’t do that to me.” Emily couldn’t help but marvel over his accent. Definitely British - plus the whole ‘love’ thing. She also wondered how the hell he was wearing a button down shirt and jeans with how hot it was in the house.

“Yeah that’d be fucking disgusting,” Emily snorted. More people were trying to come into the kitchen for drinks plus it was obnoxiously loud, which meant she had to move a little closer to the random guy. She realized she could have just left the crowded area but for some reason she didn’t want to.

“I’m gonna go back,” Mary stepped over to say. She had been talking to the bartender but she just shot Emily a smile and headed out.

“So what’s your name then?” The guy asked, bringing Emily’s attention back. She leaned up against the wall next to him.

“Emily.”

“I’m Van,” he stated with a grin. Van? Emily thought, weird name.

“Like Van Morrison or what?” she shot back. He chuckled and nodded.

“Exactly.” Emily wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or if this guy really was that attractive but she knew she didn’t want to leave him yet. His eyes were so mischievous and his smile was so cute she just felt she had to get to know him better.

Van just sipped his drink again and Emily wondered why he’d even been standing here alone in the first place. “Sooo... you wanna take a shot with me?” Emily smirked.

Van scoffed in response. “Oh, of tequila I suppose?” Emily nodded. “Alright then, I guess so. Hey, Ryan could we get two shots of tequila?” he directed at the bartender who nodded.

“Yeah, I got you.” Van pushed off his place from the wall and Emily followed, moving right next to him on the bar. Ryan poured the shots and pushed them across the counter.

“Thanks, mate,” Van said before letting out a sigh. “Why am I doing this again?” he laughed.

Emily shrugged. “For me, I guess?” Van debated this and then nodded.

“Yeah, guess so. Alright, cheers,” he muttered before he and Emily downed their shots. Van cringed, making a nauseated face. “Fucking disgustin’.”

Emily laughed, feeling pleased with herself for being able to drink it so easily. “What’s your drink of choice, then?”

“I dunno, probably just a beer. Or maybe vodka,” Van replied. He caught the bartender’s attention again and motioned for two regular drinks. More people were trying to come into the kitchen, nearly shoving the two out of the way. Emily quickly grabbed the drinks from the bartender. “Shit,” Van mumbled when a guy bumped into him, bringing his hand to the small of Emily’s back and gently pushing her back to the wall so they could lean again.

“So you’re British, right?” Emily questioned, handing him his drink.

“Yeah, I’m from Wales, moved here for school though.” He nodded his head along to the song which was actually quite good. Max was doing much better as the DJ.

“And why’d you come here?”

Van shrugged. “I dunno, I really always wanted to come to the states, I suppose. Actually one of my good mates from back home was close with a guy who came here for uni and he made it sound so amazing I thought, fuck it why not try it out? And course I love it ‘ere,” he rambled then looked down at Emily who was smiling softly up at him. Was it the tequila? Or did he somehow even hotter? Emily wanted to jump him right there. “What about you, where are you from?” Wow, his eyes are so fucking blue. And those eyelashes… Emily felt all squirmy as he stared down at her.

Emily laughed. “You’ll never guess.”

“Oh, bet I will. You’re from… New York.” Was he leaning closer to her?

“Nope.” He definitely was.

“Texas?” Was he?

“Nope.” He smelled so good. How did he smell that good in a grimy, nasty frat party?

“Okay, I give in. Tell me,” Van grinned.

“Minnesota,” Emily replied, letting out a laugh at his raised eyebrows.

“Wow, I never would’ve guessed that. I can’t say I’ve ever met someone from Minnesota, don’t think. The place with all the snow, yeah?”

Emily continued sipping on her drink. “Exactly.” Van shook his head, probably in disbelief.

“And what are you doing in California?” he mused.

Emily couldn’t help but just stare at him. God, he was fucking hot. He kept pushing back his hair or tucking a little bit behind his ear, which of course was golden brown and a little longer like she loved, curling up at the bottom of his neck. “This is a really good school. Plus, it’s always warm and the beaches are just,” she leaned her head back thinking about them, “amazing. And the parties, come on.”

Van chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Makes sense. So what year are you then?”

“I’m a junior. You?”

“Ah, well I’m actually on exchange here. I’m in my second year here, so what a sophomore? And I’ll go back and finish the other two years back in the UK.” So he was younger than her? Surprising.

“Ah so you’re young still,” Emily smiled.

“Yeah, but I love an older woman,” Van smirked and took a drink. Jesus.

The two continued to talk for quite a while, bantering back and forth and refilling their drinks a few times as well. They continued to move closer to each other as well, nearly pressed up against one another until Van shot out the age old question: “Do you wanna dance?” Emily nodded and grabbed his hand, leading him through the kitchen back out to the dance floor which was still lively. By now, even more people were making out and things were somehow even messier.

Emily was solidly drunk by now so she really didn’t care what was going on around her. She shot Van a small smile before turning around and pressing up against him. His hands immediately dropped to her waist, bringing her in closer. He was so warm and so much taller than her and Emily loved it. The alcohol definitely helped as she grinded on Van, him gripping her hips tightly. They danced together so well and they had a lot of fun too, singing along to the music. At one point, Emily felt Van’s breath on her neck and she almost couldn’t take it. She was about to turn around and kiss him, honestly, when he whispered in her ear, “Do you wanna come outside with me?” She nodded and he slipped his hand down to hers, interlocking their fingers and leading her around the kitchen and up the flight of stairs - she didn’t even know there was another floor in this house - past a few stray couples to a balcony. Van pushed open the door. “After you,” he gestured.

Emily stepped out into the balcony, glad to finally be away from the hot, sticky air inside the house. She tilted her head back and breathed, leaning her arms on the edge of the balcony. She heard the door shut and then turned to see Van fishing through his back pocket. She was surprised to see him pull out a pack of cigarettes. He put one in his mouth and then dug around more in the pocket of his black jeans for a lighter. Emily watched him light it so carefully, putting one hand near the end so the wind wouldn’t blow it out. He took a long inhale, his cheekbones sucking in and Emily couldn’t help but look at his lips wrapped around the end. Van kept the cigarette in his mouth, exhaling while he spoke. “Want one?” He asked Emily.

She shook her head. “No, I’m good. I’m kinda surprised you smoke,” she stated, continuing to watch him without really caring. Van looked exponentially hotter while smoking a cigarette, she decided.

He took another long inhale before finally pulling it from his mouth. He blew out a long stream of smoke, making sure it was away from Emily. “I know, it’s a nasty habit. But everyone back home smokes and I just couldn’t bring myself to stop.” Van laughed, looking over at Emily. They were standing really close, sides pressed up against each other. Tingles ran through Emily’s body at every place they touched.

Emily bit her lip. “Could I just actually take a hit of yours?” Nothing wrong with a little drunk cigarette right? Plus, when someone of his caliber was offering… Van nodded, taking one more long drag and to Emily’s surprise, bringing the cigarette right up to her lips. She couldn’t inhale nearly as long as Van so she didn’t try to. She figured if she hadn’t been as drunk as she was, she probably would’ve coughed too. Vans finger grazed her bottom lip as he pulled it away, smirking. Emily felt like her skin was melting off.

He put it back in between his lips and gave it a few more long pulls before finishing it. There was even a spot for cigarette butts and the ends of joints on the balcony so Van tossed it in there. The two looked out on the balcony which had a pretty spectacular view. A few blocks away, they could see the ocean. Some people on the street below were stumbling out of the party and laughing or screaming. It was like something out of a movie. The music could still be heard, though it was muffled. Van sang along to an old Fall Out Boy song quitely, nodding his head to the beat and Emily couldn’t help but be impressed. “You’re like, good,” she mumbled, turning to look at him, resting her head onto one of her hands.

Van chuckled. “Eh, not really but thanks.”

He looked down at her and Emily’s stomach jumped. Without even thinking about it twice, Emily leaned up and kissed him. Van kissed her back immediately, dropping his hands to her waist. Emily wrapped her hands around his neck, curling her fingers into the ends of his hair. She felt a little bit of stubble scratch her face and she wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or just how attractive he was but fuck, Van was a really good kisser. He tasted like tequila and smoke and bad decisions. Emily nearly melted in his touch as he pulled her even closer. She felt so small as he pressed her against the edge of the balcony, towering over her, his hips digging into her stomach. Emily gently bit his bottom lip and a little noise emerged from Van’s throat, which caused Emily to let out a little giggle.

“What?” Van whispered, pulling away and resting his forehead against hers. She stared up at him, unable to hide her grin. She leaned in and just kissed him again lightly, for a few seconds. His hands moved up to cup her face, moving her hair behind her ear. Their lips moved slowly before Emily pulled away and leaned her head onto his chest. She breathed in - maybe a little too deep - but Van didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her waist. “You wanna go somewhere?”

Emily leaned back and gazed up at him. Her vision was a little clouded but she was mesmerized by the way his eyelashes framed his eyes that were so light blue it wasn’t even fair to the rest of the world. “Yeah,” she replied, biting back a smile. Van shot her a small smile back, revealing the tiniest dimple. He reached down and intertwined their fingers, pulling Emily behind him. He led her down the stairs, through the house, nodding ‘hi’ to a few people all while keeping their hands tight to his back. At one point, someone cut in front of Van causing him to abruptly stop, which meant Emily ran right into his back. “Oof”, she muttered as Van chuckled, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. They finally reached the back door, a cloud of smoke coming along with them.

“Fuck, think I just got stoned too,” Van laughed as he and Emily stumbled onto the street. Emily giggled, agreeing with him.

“So where are we going?” she questioned, holding his arm and leaning on him. Van slung an arm around Emily’s shoulders, keeping her close as they walked down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding crying girls and guys who looked like they were about to vomit in the street. Van reached into his pocket and squinted at his phone, then slid it back and exchanged it for another cigarette. He lit it with one hand, keeping the other around Emily.

“You hungry or anything, love?”

Emily debated this. Of course she was hungry. There was nothing better than some drunk food plus she hadn’t eaten in many, many hours. But usually when you leave with a guy he just wants to take you straight to his place, not stop for food. “Yeah, I kinda am. Is that okay?”

Van chuckled, “‘Course, I’m quite hungry as well. Where do ya reckon we should go?”

And that’s how the pair ended up in a McDonalds at 1 AM, stuffing their faces with french fries and chicken nuggets. They were probably too drunk to be in public but honestly, so was everyone else. This McDonalds was notorious for being the place students went to after parties or bars because it was open 24 hours and in the perfect location.

“So ya were pretty hungry then,” Van laughed, nudging Emily’s foot and causing her to giggle. She had barely even spoken to him since she got her Happy Meal.

“Yeah, I guess so. I realize I didn’t eat dinner,” Emily paused and thought about it, “or lunch.”

“That’s terrible.” Van shook his head. He leaned back stretching an arm out on the back of the booth. Emily just shrugged and sipped on her Sprite.

He finished his food almost right away and Emily was kind of impressed. “You know, you don’t really look like a frat boy or anything,” Emily blurted out, leaning forward on her hand.

Van smirked. “Oh you don’t think so do ya?” Emily furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. “Nah, I’m not in one. My roommate last year pledged and then I became quite close to ‘em all, they’re all pretty good lads. Only thing that sucks is I couldn’t live in the house with ‘em.”

“So where do you live?”

Van motioned his head backwards. “A couple blocks that way, I got one roommate and he’s alright, not real close to him or anything but he stays out of my shit which I like. Plus he’s always willing to share his weed so can’t really go wrong there I s’pose,” Van rambled on, waving his hands around. He was so animated when he spoke. Emily was trying to figure out of it was the alcohol or if he always babbled like this. Either way, she loved listening to him talk, loved the way his account sounded so thick when forming certain words.

“Mhmm. So do you think I should just go back home or…?” Emily was still pretty drunk and so was Van, meaning if one of them didn’t make a move soon they’d probably just pass out in the booth.

“Uh, if you want but I was gonna offer you to come to mine, if you wanted,” Van said seriously, his voice seeming to lower a bit.

Emily nodded, “Yeah, sure.” So the two continued to roam the streets, hand in hand and laughing with each other until Van brought them to an apartment building. He dug around in his pockets to grab his key and once they reached the elevator, Emily couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him. He was slightly surprised but he kissed her back eagerly, only pulling away once the elevator doors opened to reveal an angry looking older guy. Emily and Van tried to stifle their giggles as he rolled his eyes and pushed past them. “Oops, he looked fucking pissed.”

Van fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the apartment door for a good few seconds. “Christ,” Van mumbled, finally pushing it open and letting Emily go in. His hand rested on her lower back, leading her into the living room first. It was small and a little messy but considering only two college guys were living there, the apartment wasn’t terrible. “Want any water or anything, love?” Van asked, walking into the kitchen and flicking on the light as Emily plopped down on the couch.

“I’m okay, thanks.” She couldn’t help but pull the soft blanket that was on the back of the couch over herself as she stretched out, leaning her head back. She heard some banging in the kitchen and wondered what Van could be doing.

After a few minutes, Van turned the kitchen light off and came back into the living room, chuckling. “You look comfy,” Van mumbled, sitting on the end of the couch a few inches from Emily, his right ankle resting on his left knee. Emily set her phone down and held back a yawn. She nodded, looking at him and waiting to see what he was going to do. Van almost seemed to be avoiding eye contact, picking at his nails. He was nervous. Emily found it adorable.

Emily pondered the situation for a few minutes. She knew she was going to lose her buzz soon - the opposite of what she wanted in this moment. Yeah, she was tired and comfortable under the fuzzy blanket but she was also inside a hot British guy’s apartment, alone with him on the couch. She would be insane to not make a move.

“Come here,” she mumbled, reaching her hands out and motioning for Van. The corners of his mouth lifted up as he scooted closer, Emily moving her legs slightly so he could fit right next to her. Emily bit her bottom lip slightly, smiling.

Van finally leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, ever so slowly. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, tugging at his hair. Van moved the blanket over a little and started rubbing the inside of her thigh gently, his other hand on her waist. Emily tried kissing him faster but Van seemed insistent on keeping it agonizingly slow, his tongue moving into her mouth teasingly. Emily let out a little whine which made him chuckle against her lips. “Hm?”

Emily decided to take matters into her own hands, pulling back and lifting Van’s hands off her, then pushed him back so he was laying on the couch. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do since he was clearly a lot bigger than her but he seemed to like it when she straddled him, putting her hands on his chest. “You’re killing me,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his neck. Van’s eyes fluttered shut, bringing his hands to her waist, rubbing her sides up and down gently. She leaned to the other side, hair brushing along Van’s nose but he didn’t seem bothered as he let out the smallest moan. Emily started kissing down Van’s neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to make him squirm. She pressed kisses up his neck and across his jaw and then was about to switch back to the other side when Van leaned forward, pushing her back again and kissing her hard. Fucking finally. Van’s hands were moving everywhere and Emily could tell he was worked up, meaning her plan was successful.

“Should we go to my-”

“Yes,” Emily cut him off immediately. She climbed off him and let Van lead her to his bedroom. He shut the door and quickly pulled some clothes off the bed, tossing them in the corner. Other than that, his bed was made nicely and he even had some cute fairy lights plugged in. Emily wasted no time crawling onto the bed and pulling Van on top of her, pressing her lips to his immediately. Eventually, Emily brought her fingers to the buttons on Van’s shirt, slowly undoing them. Van started edging his hands up Emily’s shirt slowly, nearly leaving burn marks on her skin and she pulled away, tugging her shirt over her head immediately. This drew a slight chuckle from Van as he looked down at her, biting his lip.

“Christ,” Van muttered, leaning back down to kiss Emily again.

---

“Oh my god, Mary turn that fucking thing off,” Emily mumbled, curling up tighter in bed. Of course her alarm would be going off so early even though it was the weekend.

“Sorry, love, forgot to turn it off. ‘M not Mary, though.” Emily opened her eyes and had to think for a second before she remembered where she was. That’s embarrassing. She was currently lying underneath Van, her arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned carefully over her to turn the alarm off on his phone. He shut it off and then laid back on Emily’s shoulder. “But that is me mum’s name.”

Emily snorted, rubbing her eyes carefully. “I must’ve slept like, really hard,” she muttered. Van buried his head closer to her neck, sighing softly. He mumbled something, probably in agreement.

Emily closed her eyes again and replayed the events back in her head. They didn’t end up having sex, which definitely surprised her. There was some hand stuff and whatnot but that was about it before they went to bed - except Van was being exceptionally cuddly and touchy. “What time is it?” She asked.

“‘Round nine,” Van replied, “you have a cute morning voice, y’know. All scratchy.”

“Mm, thanks,” Emily smiled. “I think I have to get going though.”

Van shifted a little bit so he was laying on his side next to her, putting an arm across her stomach and pulling her a little closer. “Why’s that?”

“I work at 11.” He looked almost disappointed.

“Oh, alright. Too bad.” Emily laid next to him for a bit, trying to not make it seem like she was ditching him right away but she felt like she probably should get up soon.

She cleared her throat, “Yeah, I gotta get going.” She snuck out from under Van’s arm and sat on the end of the bed, reaching for her shirt. She slipped it on and scanned for her jeans too. She spotted them hanging off the corner of the bed, so she grabbed them and slipped them on, then grabbed her phone off the bedside table and looked at a few of the notifications. Emily could feel Van’s eyes on her but she tried to play it off. She sighed, shoving her phone in her pocket.

Van moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still only wearing his underwear. He reached forward and grabbed Emily’s hand, tugging her down close to kiss him. She pulled away after a few seconds and looked down, “Well, thanks for the fun night but I really don’t wanna be late,” she said, glancing up into Van’s eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he still looked sleepy and cute, which was making this more difficult.

“Um, yeah I had a really nice night with ya. Could I get your phone number or somethin’ then?”

“Oh yeah, here,” Emily murmured, handing him her phone with her Snapchat open so he could type in his username. Van handed it back and stood up, bringing his hand to her lower back.

“I’ll walk you out, love.” Van guided her to his front door before resting an arm against it and leaning down to kiss her. “See you soon, then, Emily.” He gave her a sleepy smile, hair messy and cheeks flushed.

“Bye,” Emily replied, staring at his eyes for a second before slipping out the door.

---

Emily nearly threw up when she walked outside and looked up at the sun. It was way too bright and too nice out for how she was feeling. She realized Van’s apartment was actually really close to hers, so she just decided to walk home rather than pay for an Uber.

She pulled out her phone and ignored the many texts she had missed, instead immediately calling Mary. “Pick up,” she mumbled.

After it rang a few times, Mary’s morning voice came through the speaker. “Oh my god, hey,” she mumbled.

“Hi,” Emily laughed, crossing the street. “I’m on my way home now.”

“Already? I kinda thought you were really into this guy so I thought maybe there’d be a little morning action,” Mary chuckled.

Emily bit her lip. “Yeah, he was cool but I didn’t wanna stay there forever, you know. I told him I had to work at 11.”

“Ah, okay. Well, I’m in bed so just come cuddle with me and you can tell me about it,” Mary replied with a yawn.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Emily was climbing the stairs and hopping into Mary’s bed. The shades were still drawn and it was nice and dark. “So what happened to you last night?” Emily started.

Mary buried her head in her pillow. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Mary, you didn’t.”

“I did,” she sighed. Mary had a habit of almost always hooking up with her ex, JJ when she was drunk. Well, and when she was sober too. It always went like this: JJ would text Mary about how he missed her, she’d go to his place, and then he’d text her the next day that he was glad they got to see each other one last time. This had happened probably ten times, at least.

“Why do you do this? He treated you so bad,” Emily replied. Which was true. JJ and Mary met freshman year and dated until about halfway through sophomore year until she found out he had been cheating on her with multiple girls in the sister sorority to his fraternity.

Mary groaned. “I don’t know, I can’t help it. Whatever, let’s stop talking about me and talk about you and this hot British guy.”

Emily tried to hold back a smile. “Um, yeah. So his name is Van, he’s like, an exchange student here. Very nice, funny. And he was hot.” Mary looked so eager to hear more about him. “What?” Emily laughed.

“What, that’s it? Give me details.”

“Okay, okay. So basically last night we ended up dancing and then he took me out on the balcony at the house, we like made out there and then we left and stopped at McDonalds,” Emily laughed, “and then he invited me to his place which is like very close to here.”

“And?”

“And that was pretty much it. We didn’t have sex, just like other stuff you know.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Why not?”

Emily debated this. She wasn’t even sure herself. “Um, I don’t know, he seemed like he didn’t really want to, honestly. Like he was… really into doing other stuff and like never brought it up and I just kind of went with it.”

“Do you think he was a virgin or-”

“No, definitely not,” Emily cut Mary off. “He was way too good at everything. It’s hard to say, I guess.”

“So are you gonna keep talking to him or what?”

Emily shrugged. “Um, I don’t know. I would probably hook up with him again, y’know, but I don’t know. I’m not gonna reach out to him first. He’s cool, but like, you know.”

Mary nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do you think he’ll message you?”

“Honestly, probably. He was like, very cuddly and stuff which was just weird. Guys are usually so not like that.”

“Yeah, definitely. Well, I’m probably gonna go back to bed for a little bit honestly, I feel like shit,” Mary chuckled, pulling her blankets up to her chin.

Emily laughed, “Yeah, I’m gonna shower and then go back to bed too.”

A few hours later, Emily was still lying in bed when her phone buzzed. She had just woken up from a nap and by now it was around 1 PM. She grabbed her phone off the night stand and almost dropped it when she saw the notification that read “van is typing”. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. After a minute or two, she got a message from Van. Emily tried to ignore it, going and checking her other social media for a while. She eventually decided to text Mary and have her come into her room and help, depending on what Van had said.

“Okay, open it.”

Mary sat next to Emily on her bed, waiting. “It’s a chat,” Emily said.

hi emily just wanted to let you know i had a really good time last night. glad to have met you and i hope i can see you again soon xx

“Oh shit,” Emily murmured.

Mary nearly snorted. “So he’s definitely into you. I don’t even know what you say back to that.” Emily groaned, flopping back on her bed.

“I don’t know either. The thing is I don’t wanna, like date him, obviously but maybe I should just talk to him a little bit and we could hang out in the future.”

“Yeah, so true.”

Emily began typing her response.

yeah i had a good time too :)

“I’m just gonna leave it at that.” Mary nodded, approving.

A few minutes later, Van replied, asking how work was. Of course, Emily had almost forgotten that she told him she was working, so she had to come up with a fake reply about it being boring. Van continued to respond fairly quickly, asking her questions about her job and then about school, and other things like that. Emily would reply, albeit not super enthusiastically, keeping the conversation going at least.

This went on for a few days. Classes started but Van continued to message Emily, switching over to pictures. Emily would open his Snapchats and bite her lip, because of course he always looked really good in them without even trying. He was really, really attractive. And he was so funny, too. He often made jokes that made Emily giggle while she was alone in bed at night. But she tried not to let this affect her.

It wasn’t until Thursday afternoon that Van hinted he wanted to hang out again. Emily was just about to start getting ready to go out with some friends.

what are you up to tonight? x

Van always ended his messages with an x. Must be a British thing.

i’m going to bars w some friends. are u going out?

Emily bumped her head along to the music Mary was playing as she slipped on her jeans.

think so. where ya heading? x

Emily responded with the names of a few bars she and her friends had discussed they were going to stop at. At around nine o’clock, Van responded with an adorable picture of him smiling, beer in hand.

Emily looked at it for a few moments before replying with a picture of herself drinking her own mixed drink. She wondered if she’d see him out.

---

About two hours later, she didn’t have to wonder anymore. Emily, Mary, and Carson finally got into their favorite bar after having to wait outside a while. The place was packed, so Emily didn’t see Van right away.

“Thought I might see ya here.” Emily was leaning on the bar, credit card in hand and waiting to order. She looked up to see Van next to her, looking ridiculously attractive, of course. His hair was pushed back, looking perfectly messy and he was wearing all black, just like her but he just had on a crew neck sweatshirt with his black jeans. He had a nearly empty cup in his hand and his eye was nearly twinkling as well.

“Yeah, me too,” Emily replied. She was a little drunk by now, already having pregamed and been to one other bar for a few drinks.

“Let me get you a drink, love,” Van said, setting his cup down and reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, no you don’t have to.”

Van shook his head immediately. “What are you drinking?”

So Emily was caught in a bit of a tough situation. She had to stand by the bar waiting for the drink which meant she had to talk to Van. It was a little weird, after only texting back and forth for the past week. But she was still extremely attracted to him, of course. After the drinks arrived and they cheersed, Emily said, “I should probably get back to my friends,” she gestured to Mary and Carson who were laughing across the bar, “but I’ll see you later?”

Van looked a little disappointed, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’m probably staying here for a while, so.” Emily smiled and walked away.

“Wait, is that the British guy?” Carson questioned as soon as Emily was near them. She nodded. “Actually, my buddies in Theta Chi have mentioned a dude from England. Bet that’s him.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Lenny and Miller are like, really tight with him. They said he’s like, super funny and a really good guy.”

Emily leaned her head back and groaned. “Don’t say that shit to me.” Carson just laughed, knowing how she was. Emily was never one to get feelings involved with the guys she saw. It was too messy.

“I think he’s slightly attached already,” Mary pointed out. Emily shrugged, trying not to think about him.

But of course, an hour later, Van was all she could think about. Funny what alcohol will do to you. It was after midnight now, and Emily was scanning through the bar for his tall, lanky figure but she couldn’t see him. “I wonder if he left,” she mumbled.

“Who?” Carson mused, smirking.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Van, duh.” Mary and Carson exchanged a look, eyebrows raised.

“Thought you weren’t really into him?” Carson questioned.

Emily shrugged. “I’m not but I’m drunk and he’s hot, so y’know. I’ll just message him.”

She pulled out her phone and squinted at it.

hey you still at jordan’s?

Emily double checked it for spelling errors before she hit send. She responded to a few other messages before she saw he replied.

bathroom. you? xx

Emily messaged him back quickly, describing where she was in the bar and waited for him to show up. Which he did, only a couple minutes later.

“Hey,” Van said as he slid in to stand next to Emily at the table she was at.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hello,” Van said with a grin, directing it at Carson and Mary who were almost laughing to themselves.

“Oh yeah, this is Mary and Carson. Two of my roommates.”

Within a few minutes, Van and Carson were nearly best friends. They apparently had a lot in common. They were talking about soccer at the moment, which Emily had little to no interest in. She leaned on the table, sipping her Vodka soda as Mary chattered on about what JJ was texting her. “God, he’s such a dick,” Mary muttered, angrily typing a response. Emily snorted to herself, knowing that she would probably be going to his place later. Emily dragged her gaze over to Van and Carson who were watching some highlight video that Carson had brought up on his phone. Emily debated about what to do in this situation.

She decided to reach out and rub Van’s back gently, making him turn quickly and look at her. He had been laughing at something Carson said so he was still smiling at her, eyes shining bright.

“Another drink?” Emily asked, biting her lip as she touched his arm just for a second.

Van’s whole expression changed. “Yeah, let me get ya one, love,” he said in a low voice, giving her a small smile. Van turned and scooted away towards the bar to order.

“Dude, he’s so funny. I think I’m in love with the guy. I don’t know how you aren’t,” Carson laughed. Emily rolled her eyes but she wasn’t really listening, instead just watching Van as he talked to the bartender and laughed, his charm coming out. He was so good with people. Van returned with two drinks but within twenty minutes, he, Emily, and Carson were heading back to their apartment.

Mary was going over to JJ’s of course, and Emily was walking down the street, hand intertwined with Van’s. Carson was telling the story of how he had just gotten rejected by this girl at the bar he had apparently liked since last year and how he’d be spending the night with a bottle of lotion. “Carson, ew.” Emily laughed, nearly tripping over a curb. Van kept a tight grip on her hand, making sure she wouldn’t fall.

When they got inside the apartment, Emily slipped off her shoes and led Van up the stairs right away. Carson saluted them and headed into his own room for the night, to do God knows what. Emily quickly plugged in her fairy lights and flopped down on her bed, slipping her shoes off.

Van had his hands shoved in his front pockets, looking around at her pictures on the wall and other things. He looked particularly interested in her old record player. “This is class,” he said, carefully inspecting her records.

“Oh, it was my Grandpa’s,” she said, leaning her weight back on her hands. Van was smiling, apparently enjoying the music she had.

“Can I play somethin’?” Emily nodded. He fiddled with the record player for a second and then Emily’s eyes widened when she heard a song by one of her favorite bands ever, Turnover, start playing.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as Van came and sat next to her.

“What’s that?”

“You like Turnover?” Emily questioned, staring at him as he slipped his boots off.

“Oh yeah. Absolutely class. This album is unbelievable,” Van replied, turning to look at her.

At this moment, it was safe to say Emily was mesmerized. Yes, she was drunk again and yes, he clearly felt a lot more for her than she felt for him, but she didn’t care about any of that as she stared at him.

“What?” He whispered, eyebrows furrowing. Emily just leaned forward, grabbed his face with one hand and started kissing him. Van responded immediately, kissing back gently. He put one hand on her waist, sighing into the kiss. The music played quietly in the background but it somehow made everything better. Emily felt even more drunk off the taste of his lips as she shifted, pushing him to move back on the bed and he took the hint, lying down. Emily broke the kiss and straddled him, his hands rubbing along her legs and up to her waist.

Van looked nearly entranced in this moment but honestly, Emily felt the same way. She couldn’t stop staring at him, his eyes were hooded but still sparkling and he kept licking his lips. Eventually, Van leaned up and pressed his lips against hers, cupping her face in his hands. Emily shifted a little, which drew the softest groan from Van. Emily thought she had never heard something so beautiful in her life.

After a few minutes, Emily flipped the two over so Van was hovering over her. He seemed to be intoxicated by her as he leaned down and started kissing down her neck. He switched to the other side, running his hands along her body while biting her neck ever so gently.

“Fuck,” Emily moaned out quietly. Van stopped, biting his lip and then stared at her eyes. He kept staring as his fingers reached down to graze the hem of her shirt, which she helped to pull off right away. He kept staring as his fingers worked down, gripping onto her belt and slowly unbuckling it. Emily felt like she was about to explode as he tugged her pants off. He just kept staring at her while he slipped her underwear off, too. She had both of her hands on the side of his head, running through his hair. Emily almost squeezed her eyes shut but she felt like she had to keep them open, staring at him.

After a few minutes, Emily was a mess. She was sweating and so unbelievably turned on. “Van,” she mumbled, pulling his head up to look at her.

“Hm?” He licked his lips.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

Van shifted, leaning forward to kiss her then pulled away and started, “Love, I...” he let out a small sigh, “Emily,” he whispered. Emily’s eyes had so much want in them, it was driving Van insane. “I, ah, want to, of course I do. But I think maybe we should just wait.”

Emily bit her lip, feeling a little rejected almost. “Oh. We can stop, then.” She started to sit up.

Van gently pushed her back down on the bed. “No, no, I want to keep doing this. Emily, ah, well I fancy you a lot. Really, you’re just fucking...Christ, somethin’ else. Please, don’t think I don’t want this,” he muttered. “Just wanna wait for the whole sex part, yeah?” Emily just nodded, leaning up to kiss him again.

After about an hour, Emily was laying on Van’s chest, his arm around her, thumb rubbing up and down her arm. “Mm, I need a smoke,” Van mumbled, rubbing his eye with his other hand.

Emily’s eyes were closed, her fingers gently tracing across the lines on his stomach. “If you want, you can just open my window and smoke in here,” she murmured.

“You sure?” She nodded. Van slid out from underneath her, carefully. He reached down to slide his underwear back on and then grabbed a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket. Emily laid on her side, watching as he pulled open the blinds and cracked open the window and lit the end of his cigarette carefully. The window didn’t have a screen so Van just flicked the ashes right outside. Emily stared at him, admiring the way the orange glow from the cigarette highlighted the details of his face. Her eyes trailed over the curve of his shoulder blades, the bend of his elbow, the little dimples at the bottom of his back. Fuck.

Van blew smoke out the window carefully, his eyes focused on something outside. He finished off the cigarette and looked around, clearly unsure of what to do with the butt. “Put it in there,” Emily whispered, gesturing to a cup on her bedside table. Van nodded, dropping it in. He leaned over to the record player and flipped the record over, as it had stopped a while ago. He turned the music down a bit and Emily held the blankets up so Van could slide in next to her. She immediately snuggled up to him, feeling how warm he was and trying to ignore the spark of his skin against hers. Van leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead and Emily closed her eyes, needing to remain unaffected by it all.

“Night, love,” Van mumbled, reaching his hands up to stroke her hair slowly. Emily fell asleep within a minute of this.

---

The same thing happened on Friday night. Emily was at a party with Carson - Mary at work, sadly - dancing and enjoying herself when Carson lightly hit her arm. “Hey, there’s Miller. Oh, and Van!” Carson immediately turned and walked over, grinning as they did that weird handshake thing every guy does, the three of them laughing. Emily’s eyes were drawn to Van, him wearing all black once again but she was surprised to see he was wearing a short sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little. He was rather skinny, and quite pale, honestly, but his arms did have a little outline of muscle.

Emily decided to make her way over to the three, greeting Van with a ‘hi’, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her in for a small hug. They ended up all talking, dancing, and drinking for a while. Emily was honestly having a really fun time. Van, Miller, and Carson got along so well but Emily felt like she fit in too.

“Alright, I gotta head out. My girl’s texting me, so,” Miller said, slapping hands again with Van and Carson, nodding at Emily.

“See ya, mate,” Van said as Miller made his way out of the party. Emily realized that Van had probably come with Miller, and now here he was with Carson and Emily only.

So it was down to three. Until Carson started dancing with a girl who was quite tall, way taller than Emily but still shorter than him.

“Oh shit,” Van laughed as Carson and the girl started kissing right next to them a few minutes later. Emily laughed along with him, feeling a little grossed out by the sight. Van shook his head and turned away from the couple, then leaned down by Emily’s ear. “Dance?” he asked quietly. Emily nodded, turning around and standing right in front of Van. His hands slid down her sides, holding her hips tightly. They danced like this for a while, a little slowly, Emily leaning her head back a little onto Van’s chest. At one point, she turned around and reached up to kiss him. Van didn’t even hesitate to kiss her back, bringing his hands from her waist down to her ass. Emily pulled away after a few moments, totally breathless. Van’s hair was sticking to the sides of his face and a little sweat dripped down his neck because of how ridiculously hot the basement was. But Van still looked so good.

A while later, Van, Emily, Carson, and the girl whose name Emily hadn’t learned yet were walking home. Carson was absolutely hammered, stumbling down the street and laughing about something. The girl was trying to hold his hand but he was weaving around aimlessly, and he tripped slightly over the curb. “C’mon, mate,” Van chuckled, letting go of Emily’s hand to put an arm around Carson, helping him stay upright. They eventually made it inside Emily and Carson’s apartment, Carson heading straight to the bathroom. The girl sat awkwardly on the couch in the living room as Van asked Emily where their glasses were to get Carson some water.

“That cupboard, yeah,” Emily murmured, leaning against the counter. Van filled the glass with water from the sink.

“He’ll probably be needing this, yeah? But he’s fine, I think,” Van said with a little smile. Emily watched as he turned and headed up the stairs to take care of Carson who from the sound of it was puking his guts out. It was pretty sweet to see him acting like this, taking care of one of Emily’s friends when he really didn’t have to.

Emily made a disgusted face as she went to sit by the girl on the couch. “Carson’s not usually like this,” Emily said with a laugh.

The girl just smiled, looking a little unsure of herself. Emily heard Van laughing upstairs. “Your boyfriend’s a good guy.”

Emily looked up from her phone, “Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s uh, yeah, no,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Oh, really? You guys seem so cute together,” the girl replied.

Emily bit back a smile. “Thanks but no, we’re definitely not together.” She stood up and climbed the stairs as Carson came bursting out the bathroom.

“Is Lauren still here?” he asked, Van standing behind him, trying to hide his laughter. Emily nodded and Carson pushed past her.

“Carson, did you brush your teeth at least?” She whisper-yelled at him as he ran down the stairs.

“He did,” Van said with a chuckle. He flicked off the light and walked out of the bathroom, grabbing Emily’s arm and pulling her close to him. He brought his hands up to her face and just stared at her for a second. “You’re quite beautiful, y’know,” he murmured. His eyes were a little squinty as his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He was glowing.

Emily smiled, looking away. “Stop.”

Van ran his thumb across her cheek, then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “No, I’m serious. Absolutely class.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, then leaned up and kissed him.

---

It went on like this for a while. Van got Emily’s actual phone number and started texting her everyday. Almost every weekend, the two met up at a party or bar and then spent a night together, unless they had an exam or work or something else going on. Van tried making other plans quite often, asking Emily if she wanted to go for coffee or dinner or something, but Emily always came up with an excuse. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, growing worse each day. She attempted to get rid of it by ignoring Van’s requests for dates and keeping it strictly sex between them. But it wasn’t easy.

“Emily, you totally like him. Why won’t you just admit it?” Mary questioned Emily on one Saturday night that they actually decided to stay in. All of the roommates were home, watching movies and just relaxing.

They were on the topic of Van and how great he was. This happened quite often. Mary and Spencer had taken a liking to him, almost as much as Carson had. Ever since Van had taken care of him when he was throwing up, Carson basically worshipped the ground Van walked on.

“Yeah, for real. I’m telling you, I have feelings for him. And I don’t even like dudes,” Carson said, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Guys, stop. I’ve told all of you this. Yeah, he’s cool and whatever but I just like hooking up with him. I don’t like him like that.”

Carson, Mary, and Spencer let out a collective snort. “Yeah, sure,” Spencer said under his breath. Emily shot him a dirty look.

“I’ve never even hung out with him unless we were drinking first so I don’t know where you guys are even getting this from.”

“Oh my God, Emily. Van tells me all the time that he wants to take you out on a real date but you always avoid it. He also told me you haven’t even had sex, so I know that’s not why you keep hanging out with him.”

“Carson!” Emily shouted, feeling a little blood rush to her cheeks. Carson just shrugged, eating more popcorn. “Look, I know he likes me, okay? He’s told me. And yes, he asks me all the time to get dinner and stuff, but I don't know. I just don’t date people, okay? I don’t like the idea of being with just one person. And I don’t believe in relationships.” Spencer rolled his eyes at this, most likely thinking of how much he loved his girlfriend Sarah.

Mary scoffed. “Dude, have you even hooked up with anyone else since you met Van?” Emily didn’t respond. “No. And I know that guys are still hitting you up and wanting to hang out. So what the hell?”

Emily just shook her head. “Stop trying to make me like him! It’s not gonna happen. I haven’t even really been around him when we were sober.”

Carson and Mary exchanged a look. “Okay, so invite him over,” Carson replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not gonna invite him over, we’re having roommate bonding.”

“Jesus Christ, Emily. We’re watching fucking Cars right now. Invite him over, I swear to God, before I get pissed off,” Spencer shouted from the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer.

“Fine. I’ll see what he’s doing. But I’m not inviting him over til later.” Emily rolled her eyes and opened the last text she had gotten from Van.

From: van

what you up to x

From: emily :)

not much, just watching some movies with my friends. hbu?

From: van

i’m at home, just bought some weed off my roommate. you interested?

About an hour later, Emily was in the bathroom, brushing her hair out when she heard a short knock and then the door to her apartment open. She could tell it was Van, him laughing loudly along with her other roommates right away. He could really draw anyone in with that laugh. It was contagious. She sprayed a little more perfume on before shutting the light off and jogging down the stairs.

Van was sitting next to Carson on the couch, who was updating him on what was going on with Lauren, who he seemed to be catching feelings for. Van turned and looked at Emily when she reached the bottom of the stairs. His face lit up and Emily tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach it gave her.

“Hi, love,” he said with a grin, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

“Hey,” Emily replied, sitting next to him. Van squeezed her thigh gently and then kept his hand there as he turned to keep talking to Carson.

“Yeah, we went out to dinner last night. I dunno, I think I do actually like her,” Carson said, shaking his head. “And she’s a freshman! What the hell is wrong with me?”

Van chuckled. “Nothing, mate. Can’t help who ya want.” Emily bit her lip, looking down at Van’s large hand on her leg still, his thumb gently stroking across it.

“So you guys wanna smoke?” Van asked a few minutes later. There was a chorus of ‘yes’s’ and Van smiled, standing up to get his jacket. He pulled out a bag of weed, a few wraps, and his favorite lighter. “Mind if I do it here?” He asked Emily, gesturing to the coffee table.

“That’s fine,” she responded, getting up and heading to the kitchen. She grabbed a piece of paper towel, bringing it to Van.

“Oh, thanks, love.” He got to work, emptying the wraps and sprinkling the bud inside, then rolling. Emily pretended to not watch as he brought each of the blunts up to his lips, licking them to seal them. That’s... hot, she thought to herself. After a few minutes, the windows were cranked open and Van handed a blunt to Emily. “Wanna start it?” Emily nodded, putting it in her mouth and grabbing the lighter off the table. She lit it carefully, sucking in and making sure the end stayed lit. She exhaled and then brought it up to her mouth again, hitting it one more time before passing the blunt over to Van. Emily tried not to stare as he inhaled it for a long time, then blew a couple of o’s. He licked his lip and passed it to Carson.

When the first blunt was finished, Van immediately lit up the second one. By the time the five of them had all finished it, they all seemed decently high. They all had pretty distinct high personalities. Carson and Spencer were laughing so hard no sound was coming out of them. Mary had been staring at the TV for so long, entranced by some dumb show she always liked to watch while high, hand shoved in a bag of Cheetos.

And Van, well, Van was just a more lowkey version of himself while high. He was a little quieter, but he was really, really touchy, and his words a little drawn out, his voice raspier. He was laying on the couch while Emily was getting a drink. When she came back, he held open his arms and made grabby hands. Emily smiled at him, setting her cup down and sitting on the couch by him. They had to adjust a little, Van sitting up more and Emily leaning back on him. Vans eyes were barely open, but that had happened almost immediately after he had started smoking. “Hi,” he said quietly as Emily laid her head on his shoulder.

“Hi, Van.” Van wrapped his arms around her waist, grabbing one of her hands and intertwining their fingers. He stretched his fingers out, highlighting how long they were compared to Emily’s.

“Like when you say my name,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. But I just like you.” Emily shut her eyes. She could see faint designs dancing behind her closed eyelids. It had been a few weeks since she had smoked, so she was feeling a little different than usual.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Emily opened her eyes to see both Carson and Spencer standing up. “Like, I’m about to sleep so good,” Spencer said.

“Well, goodnight then,” Carson said, yawning. They both headed upstairs leaving only Mary, Emily, and Van downstairs.

“You wanna go up?” Van asked, rubbing Emily’s arm softly. She nodded, not one to speak much while under the influence.

So they got up, hands locked together, said goodnight to Mary, and ended up lying in Emily’s bed. The window was cracked open so sounds of the traffic below filled the room, along with a record Van had put on. Emily was lying on Van’s chest, eyes closed as he sang along to The Killers.

“I don’t mind if you don’t, I don’t shine if you don’t,” he sang quietly. Emily was so impressed.

“You’re so fucking good,” she mumbled against his chest. “You should be in a band or something.”

Van chuckled. “I am in a band, love.”

Emily’s eyes opened wide. She sat up, staring at Van. “Wait, what? You’re in a band?”

Van reached his hand out, tracing his thumb along Emily’s arm. “Mhmm. Didn’t I tell ya that?” Emily shook her head vigorously, clearly in shock. “Yeah, well. We’re not real big or anything. Played at a couple bars, done a couple competitions, that type ‘o thing. I was in one back home too, but obviously that’s kinda on hold.”

Emily’s mouth was still wide open. “I can’t believe this. That’s literally so hot, Van,” she groaned, lying back down on his chest. Van chuckled, pulling her in tight.

“If I would’ve known you’d react like this, I’d ‘ave defo told ya sooner.”

“What’s your band’s name?”

“Catfish and the Bottlemen,” Van replied, his voice so raspy.

“Hmm, cool name. I wanna see you perform sometime,” Emily said.

“Yeah, I’d love that, honestly. How ya feeling?”

Emily shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Starting to come down so I’m getting a little tired.”

“You wanna go to sleep?” Van asked.

She shook her head. “Mm, no not yet.” She leaned her head back to look at Van who was already staring down at her. His eyes flicked down to her lips then back to her eyes, searching them.

“Em?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Hm?”

“How come you never want to do anything normal with me? I, you know, ask you to dinner and stuff but you always say you’re busy. But then I see you every weekend, usually only when we’re drinking or somethin.’” Emily turned her head, laying back on Van’s chest. She let out a small sigh.

“Van, I... uh, I don’t really know.”

“I like you a lot, Emily. I really do. We met, what a month ago? But I think about ya all the time. And I’d really, really like to take ya out sometime on a proper date. I wanna spend more time with you.”

Emily was quiet for a moment. She sat up again, biting her lip. Van sat up a little too, staring at her. “Van, I just… don’t know what to say,” she whispered. She looked into his eyes, which were full of expectation. She could feel her own eyes starting to water just a little so she started blinking quickly, looking at her hands. Van ran his hand up her arm, around to the back of her neck. She shivered slightly at his touch.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. Emily chewed on her lip for a second before looking back at him.

“Okay,” she whispered. She felt so vulnerable and she knew why. Of course she had feelings for him. How could she not? Van was fucking perfect. But she didn’t want to tell him that. Emily was so used to being alone mostly, only casually dating guys, cutting things off if it seemed like too much. And she really, really didn’t want to let him in. But Van was doing his best to work his way into her life. He knew she was closed off. He knew that she had slept with a lot more people than he had. He knew that she liked to party maybe a little too much. But he didn’t care. “I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t like this,” she muttered, quickly wiping a single tear away.

“Come here, love.” Emily crawled up closer to Van so they were only about an inch apart. “‘S okay, honest,” he mumbled before pressing his lips against hers softly. Emily’s eyes fluttered shut, kissing him back. She fell apart under his touch, Van’s hands roaming up and down her body slowly, his fingers finding their way underneath her sweatshirt. Emily was straddling Van now, but letting him be totally in control. He pulled away to tug her sweatshirt over her head. Van stared at her body for a moment, eyes wide in awe, just like he did every time she removed her clothes. It made Emily’s stomach flutter every time, too. “Flip over, hm?”

The two switched positions and Van leaned in to kiss her neck, then down her body slowly. His lips brushed against her stomach and Emily squirmed a little. He looked up at her, eyes hooded, full of want. He tugged her leggings off, tossing them onto the floor, then moved down to press kisses against the inside of her thighs. Emily was shaking as he brought his hands up to tug off her underwear, then pressed her hips down against the bed.

A few minutes later, the two had swapped positions again. Van had just let out a groan that made Emily’s eyes almost roll back into her head. “Love, do you... Should I grab a-” Emily looked up at Van, his lips swollen and hair messy from running his own hands through it.

She nodded. “If you want to, Van.” They hadn’t talked about sex since Emily had asked him the second time they hooked up. Emily never wanted to push anything and she was fine without it. But she would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t pounding right now, her stomach jumping at the possibility.

“I do, yeah.”

A few hours later, they were still awake. The record player had stopped a long time ago but neither of them seemed ready to sleep. Emily was lying on her back, Van on top of her, one arm wrapped around her waist and her arms around his neck, every part of their bodies intertwined. She was running her hands through his hair, him letting out a hum every so often. “I really like ya, Em. I really, really do,” Van mumbled against Emily’s skin. Emily smiled to herself but didn’t say anything back.

#vanfic #van mccann fanfic #catb fanfic #van mccann #my fic #lmk what y'all think #i'll post part two soon

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libraryscarf · 6 years

Text

Payback

“Come on. There has to be one person here you wouldn’t mind hanging out with.” Hiyori found herself scanning the milling people for someone tall, with unkempt dark hair, or for anyone in gym clothes, but no one stood out. She told herself the vicious knot in her gut was from excitement, or nerves, or even the quick-acting alcohol in the punch. But it was definitely not disappointment. Definitely, definitely not.

(content warnings for this chapter: sexual harassment; attempted sexual assault)

Chapter 5: The Party ( ao3 / ff.net )

Hiyori, lured from her studies into the living room by the sound of precariously clinking glassware, found Ami removing her collection of comically undersized, decorative vases from the mantelpiece. She was gently folding them in bubble wrap and storing them in boxes filled to the brim with packing peanuts.

“Are you moving out?” was Hiyori’s immediate, panicked question. Ami gave her a look of gentle disappointment.

“Of course not, moron. I’m just protecting my valuables from—” she waved in the general direction of the kitchen, where Yama’s voice wafted to them as she talked rapidly on the phone. “—That.”

Hiyori listened, apprehensive. After a few seconds of eavesdropping, she realized Yama was on the phone with her boyfriend, Abe. She was delivering a volley of instructions to him:

“—so make sure to bring all your frat bros or homies or whatever you call yourselves, because this has to get wild—”

Hiyori looked back at Ami, her eyes round with fear.

“What…what is she talking about?”

Ami shrugged, returning to her vases. “A party, sounds like.”

“When?”

“Dunno. Soon.”

“But why?”

Ami gave her another slightly motherly look of disapproval, and Hiyori immediately experienced the horrifying sensation of having digested her own lungs.

“Me?!”

Ami turned back to the vases and packing peanuts. “You can’t have a birthday and not expect Yama to do something expensive and ridiculous.”

Hiyori groaned, pressing both index fingers against her temples. “But my mom already did something expensive and ridiculous for my birthday. I don’t need this. I don’t want this. I hate this.”

Ami placed the last vase in the box and sealed it shut with an efficient flick of the tape dispenser.

“It might not be so bad,” she said demurely.

“It’s a party,” Hiyori hissed. “A Yama party.”

At that moment, Yama bounced into the room, radiant with energy and the prospect of dozens of overboozed, sweaty coeds descending on their living space within forty-eight hours.

“I heard my name?”

“Hiyori was just telling me how excited she is about the party you’re planning.”

Ami’s betrayal cut deep, but she seemed oblivious to the pained glance Hiyori gave her.

Yama barreled full steam ahead. “One of Abe’s friends is trying to make it as a DJ, so he’s bringing everything he needs to set up tomorrow morning—”

“Tomorrow?!” Hiyori screeched.

“Relax, girl, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Just…maybe lock your bedroom door before things get started. You don’t want to find anything—anyone—uh…unexpected, in there.”

Ami grimaced in distaste. Hiyori didn’t know whether to sit down on the floor and curl up in the fetal position, or run to her bedroom and dive under the covers to hide, shivering, until this ordeal passed.

“How many people?” she whispered, frightened to hear what the answer might be.

Yama began ticking off on her fingers: “It depends on how many of the frat guys actually show up…plus the volleyball team…plus the track team…and Abe said some guys from UOT were interested…”

At this point Hiyori did, in fact, sink to the floor. Her bangs stuck to her clammy forehead. She felt slightly sick. Yama stopped talking and crouched beside her, eyebrows knitting in concern.

“You okay?”

Hiyori peered at her accusingly from under her sweaty hair.

“You invited four hundred people over for my birthday.”

Yama shook her head quickly, her ponytail snapping against her cheeks.

“No, no. Seventy-five, max. Not everyone’s gonna show up, you know.”

Hiyori dragged both hands down her face, pulling her cheeks tight against the bones underneath.

“But whyyy?” she whined. “You know my family throws a fancy dinner for my birthday every year. And you know how much I hate those. Why would you add another layer to what is already a hellish experience for me?”

Yama poked Hiyori’s gaunt cheeks playfully.

“Because a fancy dinner party is nothing like a college party. You need to cut loose, Hiyo. Have fun. Stick your tongue down a stranger’s throat. Dance on a table. Barf on someone’s shoes.”

Hiyori gave a shudder, slapping Yama’s hands away from her face. “No. No thank you.”

Yama straightened up and fixed her ponytail. Just like that, she was all business.

“Well, too late now. The plan is in motion. So prepare yourself for some serious fun, whether you like it or not.”

Hiyori, desperate for an out, looked to her other friend for support. But instead of providing assistance, Ami said:

“Hey, you should invite that guy you’ve been seeing. What’s-his-pizza-name.”

Hiyori’s neck gave a sharp, fatal-sounding snap as she jerked upright.

“Yato,” she said in quiet terror.

Yama inhaled quickly. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I knew I was forgetting someone! Hiyori, do you want to invite him yourself, or should I leave a note on their mailbox or…?”

She trailed off. Hiyori had scrambled to her feet and was already fleeing to the front door. “I’ll handle it!” she shouted.

The door slammed behind her, and the house shivered. After a beat of silence, her two friends exchanged a lengthy, meaningful glance.

Ami held her hand out, palm-up. Yama, with a sigh of regret, fished twenty dollars out of her pocket and slapped it into Ami’s outstretched palm.

: : :

“You’re going, right?”

Yato upended an almost-empty bag of Doritos into his open mouth, pouring the residual crumbs straight down his throat. He wiped the flecks of chip dust off his lips before answering Yukine.

“Of course I’m going. It’s free food.”

Yukine’s lip curled. “Yeah. I should have figured.”

“You should come,” Yato suggested, tossing the bag aside and falling backwards onto the couch, hands propped behind his head. Yukine sat down next to the coffee table and swept a few escaped Dorito crumbs into his palm.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit irresponsible of you to take your underage roommate to a college party?”

Yato shrugged. “I just thought it might be nice for you to have a life outside of school, studying, and eating my food.”

Yukine bristled at this implication, especially considering the circumstances under which it was uttered. He flung the Dorito crumbs at Yato’s face, which were received with impenetrable nonchalance.

“For your information, asshole, I have plans tomorrow night, which don’t involve your stupid frat party or your stupid fake relationship.”

Yato sat up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Plans? With whom?”

Yukine colored. “Nobody important.”

“…A girl?”

“No.”

“A boy?”

The blush ripened on Yukine’s cheeks, spreading nearly up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s none of your business,” he grumbled.

Yato smirked at him for one more second, then collapsed backwards on the couch again.

“Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Yukine hauled himself up from the floor, conspicuously brushing his hands off as he left the room. He didn’t bother with a response. The list of things Yato wouldn’t do, especially when money was involved, was alarmingly short.

Once his roommate left, Yato closed his eyes.

The first image his mind brought to him was, unshockingly, Hiyori.

Yato should have been used to it by now—how her face occupied the inside of his eyelids now more than ever. Whenever she was near him he was distracted by something subtle about her, like the way her hands played with the collar of her shirt when she was talking, or the ribbon-silk strands of hair that escaped from her ponytail and clung to her neck, or the little hiccup that escaped every time she tried to stop herself from laughing. The more time he spent with her: talking to her, thinking about her, feeling her slowly, like perfume, creep into the silences around him, the more he came to understand that this job was—mentally, emotionally, and physically—against his best interests.

Because he was more in love with Hiyori Iki than ever. And it was worse now, because she had become his friend.

“There’s going to be a lot of people there,” she said, her brow furrowing in apprehension.

She had of course visited to ask if he could come to the party, because now that they were fully inhabiting the fiction of their relationship, there was no way he couldn’t come.

“That’s okay.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m good with people.”

Hiyori gave him a doubtful look, and he held up a finger.

“Let’s not forget, I talked about calligraphy with your mom for almost twenty minutes.”

She nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Yeah…I guess you’ll be okay.”

She straightened her spine, then reached up to rub the back of her neck. She blew a long breath out of her nose. Yato was nearly overcome with the intense and completely unacceptable urge to offer her a shoulder massage.

“Everyone’s going to be drunk and dancing anyway, so it’s not like we’ll be under close examination,” she reasoned, oblivious to his internal conflict. “At least, we shouldn’t be.”

“Who’s coming?” he asked, desperate to shift the topic and draw his attention away from the brush of her shoulder against his as they sat on the couch.

“Whoever Yama’s invited. I try not to ask questions.”

“But isn’t this your party?”

Hiyori snorted. “She’s using my birthday as an excuse to throw a rager. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Well…if it’s for your birthday, shouldn’t you get to at least invite a few of the people you want to be there?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and turned very red. Yato, who still couldn’t allow himself to look at her, didn’t notice her sudden color change.

“I mean—in theory—” she stuttered out. Taking a moment to gather her composure, she continued: “I know I give her a hard time about it, but Yama wouldn’t invite anyone I couldn’t stand. I do trust her judgment on that.”

Hiyori paused. “If…well, if you wanted to invite anyone, I’m sure it would be fine,” she said. “Of course, Yukine and Kazuma are welcome to come.”

Yukine, who had been blatantly and unashamedly eavesdropping on the entire conversation from the hallway, dropped a pencil at the sound of his own name. The clatter as it fell to the floor sent him scurrying back to his room like a startled cat. From the kitchen, Yato and Hiyori both heard Kazuma humming along to “Toxic” as he microwaved Cup Noodles to fortify himself for his sixteenth straight hour of online chess.

“Yes,” Yato said lifelessly. “They are both party animals.”

: : :

Someone was hammering on Hiyori’s door.

“Are you comin’?” Yama demanded through the keyhole. “Or are you jus’ gonna stay in there and suck?!”

Hiyori grimaced. She had been procrastinating for twenty minutes already, and there was a very real chance Yama might bash down her bedroom door and yank her downstairs by force. After mentally double-checking that all the valuables in her room were safely pushed under the bed or into drawers, she pulled her fingers against her ponytail, loosening the tie and letting hair fall around her shoulders. It was the only effort she made to appear more festive. There was little, after all, that this party held for her.

Yama pounded on the door again, but the sound was almost drowned out by the music thumping through the floorboards, pulsing against the soles of Hiyori’s feet. Abe’s friend had brought his own massive speakers, and she felt every throb of the powerful bass in her stomach.

“Coming!” Hiyori called back. There was no response. Apparently, Yama had already abandoned her efforts.

As soon as Hiyori opened the door, the noise hit her like a wall of concrete. The bass pumped wildly, layered under a jumpy electropop remix of some radio hit. Almost as soon as she set foot outside her bedroom door, Hiyori had to edge her way past a couple violently making out against the wall.

“‘Scuse me,” she muttered, squeezing around them to head for the stairs.

As she slipped by, Hiyori saw that Yama was one-half of the embracing couple. Well, that certainly explained her silence. It was too dim to see much in the hallway, so Hiyori could only hope that the other participant was her boyfriend.

She made her way to the top of the stairs, hoping desperately that Ami was somewhere nearby to provide a safe haven. However, as Hiyori peered down onto the first floor, she had a hard time seeing much of anything. The lights were low, and it was hard to read anyone’s features from that distance and angle. There was a hum of voices and laughter beneath the music.

Then, something shone among the moving bodies. A long, bright swish of gold moved up the dark stairs toward her. “Hiyori!” said a girl’s voice, and suddenly Hiyori was looking at a familiar—and extremely beautiful—face.

Even though she stood two steps below her on the stairs, Viina still came exactly to Hiyori’s height. She held two plastic cups in front of her, and before she could think to respond, Hiyori found herself accepting one of them.

“Hi,” she said in bewilderment.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday! I felt so bad that I didn’t say anything in lab yesterday. I would have at least done the worksheet for you.”

Viina’s wide, genuine smile sent a rush of warmth through Hiyori’s chest. She answered with a grin of her own.

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t really want to mention it to anyone, but…well…you see how well that worked out.” She made a wide, circular gesture with the hand holding the drink. Viina gave a throaty laugh.

“I did have a feeling this probably wasn’t something you planned.”

Hiyori grimaced, and took a sip of the drink in her hand. It was some sort of punchy cocktail: heavy on the pineapple and light on the liquor. It was really good.

“Is it…safe, down there?” she asked hesitantly. Viina’s eyes darted across her face, then softened in understanding.

“Yes,” she said frankly, and Hiyori sighed in relief.

Viina’s lips twitched. “It’s mostly just loud. I think your DJ is really excited to use that equipment.”

Hiyori squinted toward the corner of the room—the area from which the punishing noise emanated. Through the crowd and the low light, she was just able to make out a tiny figure next to the sound equipment, bobbing excitedly along to the raucous beat.

“Well, at least someone’s having fun,” she said. Viina snorted, then took Hiyori by the elbow, drawing her down the stairs. To Hiyori’s look of questioning surprise, she said playfully:

“Come on. There has to be one person here you wouldn’t mind hanging out with.”

At that, Hiyori found herself scanning the milling people for someone tall, with unkempt dark hair, or for anyone in gym clothes, but no one stood out.

She told herself the vicious knot in her gut was from excitement, or nerves, or even the quick-acting alcohol in the punch. But it was definitely not disappointment. Definitely, definitely not.

She allowed Viina to pull her down the stairs and into the crowd of people, some of whom were no longer faceless. Hiyori caught a glimpse of Ami, who had sequestered herself in the middle of a group of bespectacled undergraduates passionately discussing particle physics over the punch bowl. They passed through the center of the living room, which functioned as a dance floor, where she was shocked to see Ebisu—the star student from last quarter’s economics class—apparently having a dance-off with Takemikazuchi, whom she had only seen a few times in passing, and who always gave the impression of having just gotten away with first-degree murder.

Hiyori was being steered by her lab partner toward a small circle of other girls, none of whom she recognized. They were all similar to Viina in appearance, though none of them were quite so tall, slender, or unbearably gorgeous. Hiyori felt herself shrinking and becoming more average-looking by comparison.

“These are some teammates of mine,” Viina said as the girls turned to look at them. “Kinuha, Tsuyu, and Mayu.”

Hiyori nodded and smiled at each of them, desperately trying to remember what team Viina had said she was on, and whether she would be able to fake her way through a conversation about any sport on the planet.

“H-hi,” she said, her voice lost beneath the wallops of the bass.

The four took stock of her discomfort, and a look of mutual agreement passed between them. With preternatural speed, Hiyori found herself tucked into a safe corner of the room with a fresh drink in her hand and chatting happily with Mayu, who possessed a cornucopia of side-splitting anecdotes. A few minutes into her story about a summer babysitting job, a wandering herd of wild goats, several modest bribes, and a gallon of antifreeze, laughter had driven the anxiety straight from Hiyori’s mind.

She stayed there for a long while, protected from the rest of the party, and only occasionally sinking into brief thoughts of who had not yet arrived.

: : :

Yato was hours late to the party because of only one reason, and that reason was currently pressing his forehead against the window of Hiyori’s house, cupping his hands around his eyes in order to see better.

“Do you think she’s here?” he whispered.

Yato yanked Kazuma back by the collar before someone inside the house could witness his behavior.

“If we go in, maybe you can find her,” he said, trying to mask his rising irritation.

Kazuma looked so stricken at the thought of actually meeting Viina in a casual environment that Yato took pity on him. He took his roommate by the shoulders, giving him a vigorous shake.

“Listen, man. It’ll be fine. Just pretend you’re talking about chemistry or something.”

At the word “chemistry,” Kazuma’s nostrils flared. The look on his face suggested that he was a hair’s breadth from darting into oncoming traffic.

“I don’t know if I can talk to her about…normal things,” he confessed, his voice weak with terror.

Yato let go of his shoulders after a final encouraging shake. “Just ask her to dance. Then you don’t have to talk.”

And he walked inside, leaving Kazuma standing on the welcome mat, looking like a stake had been driven through his heart.

As soon as he was inside, Yato felt the bass pounding in his teeth. The house was full of people he didn’t know, talking to each other, drinking out of plastic cups, laughing with loud, liquor-soaked voices. A claustrophobic crush of people in the next room over suggested that was where dancing might be happening. He scanned the room, hoping to find Hiyori somewhere close. At the very least, he could say hi, put in an obligatory appearance as her partner, and leave before things got hairy.

Yato scooted along the wall, making progress toward the room with the loudest music and the most people. As soon as he eased himself through the door, his eyes fell on the tiny figure bouncing between the enormous speakers in the corner of the room. It was only when he saw the shock of pink curls that his eyes widened with recognition.

As though sensing his presence, Kofuku caught Yato’s gaze. She shrieked, flinging herself through the crowd to crash into his arms.

“Yato!?” she wailed. “I missed yoooouuuu!”

Yato squeezed her back for the barest of seconds, then pushed her off him, holding her at arm’s length. A few people had looked up at the outburst, but their attention was quickly diverted.

Yato took hold of Kofuku’s elbow, pulling her toward the edge of the room and out of the speakers’ blast zone.

“What is this?” With a broad sweep of his arm he encompassed the speakers, mixer, and the party in general. His incredulous question had no dampening effect on Kofuku’s manic enthusiasm.

“I got a job! I got paid $6.50 to be the DJ for this party!”

Yato stared at her, unable to process any part of that statement.

“Do you even know how?”

Kofuku nodded vigorously. “Yep. The guy who paid me showed me the ‘ON’ button and the volume.”

“And he paid you $6.50?”

“Yep!”

Yato didn’t have it in his heart to tell Kofuku that a stranger had given her his pocket change, planted her behind the mixer, and turned on a playlist.

“Hey! Daikoku’s here too!” Kofuku wheeled around, reached into the crowd, and hauled her boyfriend out of nowhere. “Daikoku, look who showed up!” she crowed.

Daikoku, who stood head and shoulders above the rest of the people around them and looked, as usual, more like a hitman than a small business owner, gave Yato a curt nod.

“Hey man,” he grunted.

Yato returned the nod and the grunt, praying to whoever was listening that Daikoku would refrain from mentioning their encounter at the shop. Kofuku would pounce on that like a tiger kitten on a freshly killed gazelle. He cast around for something to talk about.

“Is there food anywhere here?” he asked. Kofuku shrugged. Daikoku pointed toward an open door on their right. Two girls walked through, carrying plastic cups in each hand.

“Not sure about food, but it looks like the drinks are in there.”

The three of them made their way to the door, which opened into a kitchen/dining area that was slightly quieter and better lit than the room they had just left. Even with the crowd, the noise, and the mess, the interior of the house managed to appear luxurious and wealthy. Yato couldn’t help mentally tallying the differences between Hiyori’s living situation and his own, and felt his insides sink.

“Chips!” Kofuku cried, and stuffed half the contents of the bag into her face. She was already vacuuming up the crumbs hiding in the crinkles of the bag by the time Yato and Daikoku had poured themselves drinks.

“You are like a little baby,” Yato said. “Watch this.”

He opened a second bag without looking at the label, tipped back his head, and poured two thirds of it down his throat. After a few seconds of crunching, he gagged, water leaking out of his eyes. He choked again, and a little puff of red powder escaped his mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he swiped at his lips in agony. Kofuku erupted in insane giggles and pointed at the “LAVA HOT GHOST CHILI™” flavor brand stamped broadly across the front of the chip bag.

Daikoku patted Yato on the back as his throat exploded in flames, and a shower of half-chewed Lava Hot Ghost Chili™ chips sprayed onto the floor.

“Gross, dude,” Daikoku said sympathetically.

: : :

The pineapple punch drink was stronger than it tasted. A lovely, bubbling contentment had spread through Hiyori’s limbs as she downed the rest of her cup. She was having such a nice time that she almost managed to forget the one person she invited hadn’t yet arrived.

Almost.

As though she had telepathic access to Hiyori’s thoughts, Yama demanded: “Isn’t your boyyyfrieeend coming?”

She dragged the vowels out for several miles, slinging a strangulating arm around Hiyori’s neck and collapsing against her shoulder. Hiyori swatted at her drunk friend’s face harder than was necessary, her comment having struck a nerve.

“Shut up,” she said. “He’s probably here. Somewhere.”

“Aren’t you gonna go fiiiiind him?”

“No.” Hiyori settled onto the arm of the chair where she was perched, on the outskirts of a conversation between Tsuyu and Viina. “I’m comfy here.”

Yama shrugged. Despite the haze of alcohol, her eyes were narrow and glinting with mischief. “Suit yourself,” she crooned.

Hiyori, irked, suddenly stood up. The floor under her dipped like the deck of a ship, but she caught herself before pitching forward.

“I want another drink,” she announced to the room at large, refusing to look at Yama, who sank, giggling, into her abandoned seat.

Hiyori marched crookedly over to the table with the enormous punch bowl, which was near the door to the kitchen. As she pushed blindly through the crowd, she knocked into someone, hard. The empty plastic cup flew out of her grip, but a hand shot from nowhere to catch it.

“This yours?” said a voice from somewhere slightly above her head. Hiyori blinked wildly as she looked up, wishing the floor would stop rocking.

Standing in front of her and holding her cup, she saw the very last person she wanted to run into at this party.

“Oh god,” she groaned. “Why are you here?”

Fujisaki frowned. “That’s…not exactly the hospitable reception I hoped for. I received an invitation, of course.”

“I doubt that,” Hiyori snapped. She took a step away, trying to strategize a safe exit.

“I really don’t feel like socializing at the moment, so if you’ll just excuse me—”

She snatched her cup away from him, and began to push toward the punch bowl, but Fujisaki took hold of her elbow before she could move very far. She shot him a filthy glare when his hand didn’t immediately retract.

“Here,” he said. He released her elbow, holding his hand up in a placating gesture. “I got this for myself, but you can have it. I’ll get another one.”

His other hand held a plastic cup, identical to her empty one. This one was full of punch. Hiyori hesitated for a second, then grabbed it from him, slopping some of it onto her hand.

“Thanks,” she muttered. She stalked back to the couch, leaving Fujisaki behind in the crowd. She didn’t see the smile that slipped across his mouth like poison.

When she got back to her seat, Yama had vanished. Viina had also left, so Hiyori took her place on the couch next to Tsuyu.

“Someone asked her to dance,” Tsuyu said in explanation. Then she rolled her eyes. “For the twelfth time.”

Hiyori peered into the press of dancing figures in the next room, and saw a flash of bright hair. Shaken from her encounter with Fujisaki, she took a large, fortifying gulp of her drink.

This batch was stronger. A lot stronger. Hiyori winced as a bitter streak of cold fire raced down her throat.

She wasn’t sure if it was annoyance with Fujisaki or the vague cloud of disappointment that had been hanging over her for most of the evening, but she relished the dizzy, insane euphoria that hit her system minutes after the punch did.

“I wan’ dance,” she informed Tsuyu—or thought she did, before turning her head to see that Tsuyu had been lured away. She saw her nearby, talking animatedly to a man who looked far, far too old for the party. Hiyori slowly came to recognize him as her literature professor, Dr. Tenjin.

“Why is he here?” she asked aloud. Her words came out slurred and incomprehensible.

“I think the real question is, why aren’t you dancing?”

The voice above her cut through the fog in Hiyori’s ears. She couldn’t place it at first, but as someone took her hand and pulled her up from the couch, she couldn’t locate her feet and ended up crashing against a tall, solid body.

“Looks like someone’s a lightweight,” said Fujisaki’s voice playfully, still from somewhere above her. Hiyori didn’t immediately associate the voice with the person holding her up.

“Hmm-mm.” She tried to shake her head “no,” but her neck was slow and her head was heavy. The delightful bubbles in her veins had turned to sludge, coursing through her like mud through a drowned river. Through the chest of the person holding her, she felt the vibration of a low chuckle against her cheek.

Her limbs dragged. She was so slow, so sleepy…so heavy, unbearably heavy.

Fujisaki’s voice spoke again, right against her face, so close she could smell his sour breath:

“Why don’t we take you someplace quiet?”

: : :

“Who’re you looking for?”

Kofuku’s quick eyes intercepted Yato’s wandering gaze as he scanned the crowd. He looked back at her with a start, and brought his cup to his lips to hide the guilty twitch of his mouth, which still burned from the Lava Hot Ghost Chili™ dust.

“No one,” he said guiltily.

Kofuku pursed her lips and crinkled her eyebrows. Her expression, which always lent itself so readily to mischief, became positively alarming as she stared him down and waited for the truth. Yato broke.

“I was invited by someone,” he admitted. “I’m looking for her.”

Kofuku squealed. She wrapped herself around his arm, starving for more details. “Oooooohhh, who?!?”

“You don’t know her.”

“I might!”

“You definitely don—”

Yato broke off suddenly, because he had seen something.

What he saw was this: Kouto Fujisaki standing on the other side of the room, his wolfish gaze trained on Yato. He had one arm wrapped around the waist of a girl who slumped against him, her head lolling on his shoulder. Yato’s eyes passed over Fujisaki to the girl, who looked half-asleep. Even from where Yato stood, across the loud, pulsing room, her posture and attitude radiated terrifying vulnerability.

The blood drained from Yato’s face so quickly that he felt dizzy.

The girl was Hiyori.

He looked at Fujisaki. As soon as their eyes met, Fujisaki’s hand dropped low on Hiyori’s hip and he licked his thin lips, winking at Yato in lewd victory. His hand crept lower. Yato looked back at Hiyori: at her vacant eyes, her drooping head. For a second, it looked like she was trying to push against Fujisaki, trying to dislodge the arm snaking around her.

The noise of the party dropped away, replaced by a dull, aching buzz that originated somewhere in his sinuses.

Then, the room went red.

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