#but if you recognize : the very next sentence is basically her amending that thought right away

[katnissmellarkkk]

favorite book quotes :

“It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.”

- catching fire (2009) by suzanne collins

[sodone-withlife]

gnossienne

Criminal Minds Fic Part One

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: implied (canonical & noncanonical) character death, canon-typical violence

Notes: I really don’t know where these ideas come from. I love agent as unsub stories, but I decided to twist it and this fic is the result. This starts a few weeks after “100” and involves an AU origin story for Hotch.

gnossienne: n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand. (The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)

“Our agents have already done a great job of isolating this branch. With this recent development, however, your involvement may be incredibly helpful in completely dismantling them.” A short pause, “Should you accept, you would be doing this for at most nine months, but none of us in the task force think you’ll be doing this for more than six.”

“Foyet took care of that time issue—permanently. You know that.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play dumb. What will my team know?”

“You know the protocol. David Rossi will be briefed on the basic information, but only because of your shared history. The rest of your team will be told that you’ve been temporarily reassigned to a task force involved in a classified operation and that you are to have little to no contact with people not in-the-know.”

Silence.

“You do know that the chances of them being brought in because of a related crime or something I’ll have to do are very high.”

“The paperwork required for them to be brought in is prepared and ready in a locked drawer.”

“And the brass allowed that?”

“Sam wasn’t the only one fighting for it. Erin’s relentless bureaucratic nature was particularly effective.”

“Strauss, she-?”

“Yep. She does like you, you know? Remember your two-week suspension a few years ago? She was hoping you would figure things out with your,” a brief pause, “wife and son.”

Heavy silence.

“You can rest assured that all bases have been thought of and covered, and I’m sure you know that your team will be in good hands.” There was a sigh.

“The brass has gotten desperate, given that it’s been over two decades of escalation, despite the best efforts of the agents both inside and outside working on isolating and dismantling the group. When this came up, the brass wanted to take complete advantage of it.”

“You—the brass knows of the tactics they employ, their M.O. for the more violent crimes, their ‘initiation’ process?”

“Yes.”

“And they know that I’d probably be at the very least complicit, if not an active participant, in such crimes?”

“As I said, they’re desperate. Slightly uncomfortable, yes, but still desperate. Though, you and I both know that your role would not require such depravity against innocents on your part, especially with your skillset and training.” Another pause. “It goes without saying that this will be difficult and high risk, and everyone involved will understand if you decide against doing it.”

There was a scoff, then a pause. “You are aware that while my motives for doing so are not insidious, they do not come from a place of altruism.”

“I don’t expect them to be.”

A longer silence.

“I’ll do it.”

~~~

“You’re looking bright right now. You have a date tonight, Morgan?” Prentiss teased tiredly as she, Reid, and Morgan made their way into the almost empty bullpen carrying cups of actually good coffee.

Morgan snorted. “Yes. With my bed.” Prentiss rolled her eyes, grateful for the levity after having spent a week chasing a child murderer out in Oregon. She shook that thought out of her head, starting her routine scan of the bullpen and surrounding offices as she set her coffee down on her desk. There’s Reid, there’s Morgan next to me, there’s JJ walking in with Garcia from their offices, Rossi and Hotch—

“Didn’t Hotch and Rossi get here before us?” she asked, noting the emptiness of their respective offices. The others simultaneously looked up at the senior profilers’ offices and then at the conference room, confirming that yes, they weren’t here.

“They could have already left…?” Reid suggested half-heartedly, clutching to his coffee like a lifeline.

JJ eyed him skeptically, “Dave? Yes. Hotch? Not likely.”

Whatever discussion that would have ensued was cut off when the glass doors suddenly swung open. The team looked over and watched in silent confusion as their leader strode determinedly towards his office, slamming the door behind him. Rossi, who was behind Hotch, walked in at a slower pace, a grave expression on his visage.

He paused by the team standing around Reid’s desk, “I’ll explain in a bit.”

Offering no further explanation, he walked up the stairs and into Hotch’s office. The team watched from outside as Rossi closed the door and blinds, deliberately preventing them from profiling through the window. The group shared a glance before reluctantly drifting away to begin writing up their reports.

“He got a phone call on the plane earlier, do you think it had something to do with that?” Prentiss leaned back in her chair, tapping a pen on her desk absentmindedly. Her speculative question pulled everyone out of their distracted focus on their work, opening the floodgates for continued discussion.

They were interrupted when, after twenty-one minutes and seventeen seconds (according to Reid), Rossi opened the door and walked out of Hotch’s office alone, catching the team’s attention.

“Someone get Garcia and JJ, they need to be here for this.”

Within minutes, the team sans Hotch was assembled in the conference room, facing Rossi.

“I would like to start off by letting you all know that this is all very sudden and unexpected,” the tension in the room skyrocketed as the profilers recalled the unpleasantness of the last few ‘sudden and unexpected’ events, “but there will be some changes in the BAU for at most” Rossi made sure to emphasize,  “the next nine months.”

“Is this something to do with Hotch?” Rossi nodded in affirmation, much to the team’s increasing alarm.

“His position in the BAU is not being threatened,” he was quick to reassure them, noting their wariness and remembering the stories he heard about Strauss’s interference a few years ago. “But, as of tomorrow, Morgan will be the acting Unit Chief.”

Morgan reared back in shock as the others all focused on him. “What?” he asked incredulously. “What’s going on with Hotch?”

“Hotch has been temporarily assigned to a task force running a rather sensitive investigation, and he will be out of contact for the next nine months,” Rossi said, taking in the shock and dismay radiating out from the team with a heavy heart while hiding his own worry.

He turned to Garcia. “And Penelope—well, all of you,” he amended, flicking a serious glance over the rest of the team, “ I have been ordered to tell you that you are not to look into it in any way, shape, or form, at the risk of compromising their security.”

Prentiss held up a hand. “Hold on, he’s gone for the next nine months, just like that?” she asked as the others remained shell-shocked, trying and failing to imagine the BAU without their boss.

Rossi didn’t answer, turning away as something in the bullpen caught his attention. The team followed his gaze towards Hotch, who was standing at the top of the steps, his bag over his shoulder and a file box under his arm. They watched through the window as their boss inhaled deeply and swept down the stairs and out of the bullpen without looking back, body taut with tension and expression darker than they’ve ever seen.

The group continued to stare even after Hotch left their line of sight. “Believe me, this wasn’t a decision he made lightly,” Rossi let out a deep breath and turned back to the team.

“Why him?” Reid asked quietly. Rossi’s heart ached for the young man, who he knew viewed Hotch as a surrogate father. He met the youngest agent’s gaze with his own grim gaze. “There’s a lot that I don’t know about this situation, and that includes the reasoning behind this. What you know right now is all that I’m allowed to share, and my knowledge doesn’t extend that far beyond all of this.”

It was clear to everyone that they weren’t being told everything, but they recognized the resolute look in the senior profiler’s eyes; they weren’t getting anything out of him. Rossi made sure to make eye contact with each of the team.

“Hotch is not pulling a Gideon. He will be coming back,” he said strongly, “but in the meantime, we still have jobs to do. I won’t ask you to be completely adjusted and not think about him at all, I just ask that you continue to work hard and do your jobs in Hotch’s absence.”

~~~

“Hey Morgan, can you look over this case?” JJ asked, file in hand and standing in front of Morgan’s desk.

“Sure,” he replied, quickly finishing a sentence in his notes before looking up and taking the file that was held out for him. Concern slipped over his face as he noted JJ’s uncharacteristically spooked expression. “Something wrong?”

JJ shook her head, watching as he opened the case file. “Um, I’m not sure. I got the call an hour ago and the file was just faxed over. It might just be me, but…” she trailed off as he paused at the pictures of the victims and their information. He looked up, meeting her gaze.

“You see it too?” she asked, to which Morgan responded with a short nod.

He stood up, gathering the files and walked out of his office, JJ just a step behind him. The two walked into the BAU conference room, gathering Garcia and the other profilers on the way. The liaison waited until the others sat down before presenting the case. A picture of a conventionally attractive young man popped up on the screen.

“Joshua Brentwood: he’s the manager at a Manhattan startup and was found in his apartment just a few hours ago like this,” another picture appeared, causing Garcia to turn away while the others looked on in detached fascination. “But the coroner determined the time of death to be around thirty-six hours ago.”

Rossi quickly did the math. “Early Sunday morning, maybe close to midnight,” he stated, bemused. “And they just found his body?”

“Apparently a coworker went over to check on him because he hadn’t shown up to work at his usual time and called it in,” Reid replied, looking through the file intently.

“There were rose petals scattered all around the bed, and ‘to my dearest’ written on the wall in the victim’s blood,” JJ reported. “No DNA or other trace evidence was found at the scene, the unsub did a pretty good job of cleaning up after themselves.”

Four more photos popped up on the screen. “He was one of five men—a project manager, a marketing manager, and two software engineers—who have been found like this in the past six weeks. Three weeks between the first and second kill, and it’s gotten shorter. The fourth body was found only two days before the most recent victim was killed.”

“Five dead so far with this MO and staging?” Prentiss repeated, “Why weren’t we called in sooner?” JJ shrugged, unsure.

“Multiple knife wounds to the upper body, cause of death is exsanguination,” Reid mused aloud, looking through the victims’ info. “Relatively large age range but similar physical characteristics, height, body shape, hair color—” He suddenly stopped, separate pieces somehow coming together and forming a strange theory in his mind.

“Um, this…” he began hesitantly, looking at the liaison. “It looks like… ?” JJ nodded, flicking her eyes towards Morgan, who was watching Reid with a carefully blank expression. Prentiss briefly looked up, noting with concern the state of her fellow profilers. It wasn’t long before the dots connected in her head; she felt her mouth open slightly in shock as Garcia inhaled a quick breath.

Rossi cleared his throat, the sound ripping through the silent room, “Physical characteristics of our victims aside, any other similarities?” No one responded, eyes till on the pictures.

“I’ll look into their online lives,” Garcia quickly bowed out of the room for the comfort of her screens. The room was silent as the profilers took in the crime scene photos.

“We’re going to New York,” Morgan’s voice cut through the tension. He looked around at his coworkers. “Meet at the jet in thirty.”

~~~

“Talk to me, Garcia,” Morgan paused in his setting up of the evidence board and turned his attention to their analyst as he answered the call. He was the only one present, JJ being outside talking to the lead agent and the victims’ loved ones. Reid was exploring the two most recent crime scenes with the local agent, and Rossi and Prentiss were meeting with the ME.

“Okay, so local agents have already established that the first four were all at local BDSM clubs the night of their murder. I looked into the most recent victim’s whereabouts, and lo and behold, he was also at a club Saturday night.” She cut him off before he could say anything, holding off his questions. “And yes, the list of clubs is being sent your way right now.”

“You’re a gem, Garcia. Anything else?” Morgan asked, walking over to get the sheet that was coming out of the fax machine.

“Oh, yes. Okay, so I also looked through the security footage that was sent over, and I could only get footage of him coming and leaving, and when he leaves he always disappears somewhere within the block.” Faint sounds of her shifting around in her seat came through the speaker, “I checked the surrounding cameras, and there’s nothing. And the clubs’ security cams are absolute crap, all I can tell you from that is that he is most definitely male and between 5’10 and 6’0.”

Morgan let out a sigh. “It’s alright, Garcia. Send over the footage after you’ve put it through your programs and continue digging; I’ll call when we get something new.”

“Garcia out.” He allowed himself a brief huff of amusement before he turned to the evidence board, sobering up as he took in all that they had so far. Failing to keep his mind from straying towards thinking about the strangeness of the MO, he shook his head as he moved to lean against the table, pulling out his phone.

“Rossi. Have you seen Hotch’s scars from Foyet?” His head dropped in resignation as he listened to the other’s answer. “Alright, thanks. Get here as soon as you can.” He dialed another number.

“Reid, you got anything?” His eyebrows flew up as he listened to the chatter from the youngest agent. “Well, hopefully, there’ll be a match in the system. I want you back as soon as you finish up the fourth crime scene,” he moved to hang up, only to pause when Reid asked a question.

Sighing, he answered, “Rossi confirmed it. The first was slightly messy and the last two were quite sloppy, but the general locations match.” He looked up as JJ walked into the room balancing two cups of coffee and a couple of folders in her arms.

“Alright, I’ll see you two in a bit,” he hung up and turned his attention to JJ. “What’s up?”

“Only one of the victims had any family members nearby,” JJ said, walking over to the table and setting a coffee down next to him. Morgan nodded in thanks as she set her own cup down next to his, “and agents already talked to the coworkers. It seems like they were quite well-liked in the workplace and didn’t have any enemies, though they were highly private and could be classified as workaholics. Neighbors didn’t hear anything,” she finished, biting her lip.

“Go on,” Morgan said, noticing JJ’s hesitation.

She took a deep breath. “If this is going the way it seems to be going, I don’t see a point in talking to them again.” She walked over to the board, tapping a finger on one of the photos. “Exactly nine knife wounds on every victim? And with Rossi’s confirmation about the location of each stab wound…” she swallowed, trying to wrap her head around the mind-boggling situation. “This isn’t a coincidence. There’s not going to be any connection between the victims beyond the obvious; this unsub is probably just looking for surrogates.”

Morgan made a sound of agreement, dropping heavily into a chair behind her, arms crossed. The two silently stared at the board, ignoring the agents outside giving them strange looks.

“I forgot to ask earlier,” Morgan interrupted the tense silence, “has the press gotten a hold of this yet?”

JJ sighed and nodded, “Agents here managed to keep it quiet for the first two murders, but the story leaked two weeks ago, just after the third.” She eyed Morgan. “Should I hold a press conference?”

“Let’s hold off on that and wait for the others to come back and see what we have,” he decided, standing up. “Given the timeline, the unsub is probably going to kill again very soon, so let’s review the footage and see what comes out of it.”

~~~

“Alright, let’s start with what we know,” Morgan began, looking around the room. “We have five men who went home with our unsub and ended up tied to the bed, gagged, and bleeding to death from nine stab wounds. Garcia ran the security cam footage through her programs, our unsub’s height is likely just under six feet.” He opened his hands in invitation, “What else have we got?”

“The staging, it screams of the unsub demanding someone’s attention,” Reid said absentmindedly.

“Writing ‘to my dearest’ on the wall in the victim’s blood, gluing the eyelids open and thus forcing the victims to look at him,” Prentiss listed off, continuing his thought process.

“All the victims were stabbed in the same places, and the ME said they were done using the same knife,” Rossi informed the group. “There were no hesitation marks; the unsub is fairly organized. He knew what he was doing, and he’s taken care to leave no trace of himself on the victim or at the scene.”

Prentiss nodded along, “He probably has a criminal history, then. ”

“The last two victims were found in worse shape, however; the stabbings were much messier and the bruises from whatever he was doing were much more severe,” Reid threw in. “That, plus the fingerprint that the crime scene techs found at the end of the message in blood and the significantly shorter cooldown period… ” he looked at the others, “he’s clearly devolving; he’s going to have to kill again, and soon.”

There was a loaded silence, the profilers not wanting to bring up the element they’ve tried to ignore (despite knowing better but of course, they couldn’t help but want to ignore—).

“The rose petals scattered at the scene, the staging, the victimology…  ” Morgan trailed off. He shook his head, pushing his feelings aside and biting the bullet, “With nine stab wounds that are eerily reminiscent of what Foyet did to Hotch, it seems like the unsub’s focus is on Hotch, and something happened recently that set the unsub off.”

“But Hotch isn’t here,” JJ stated the obvious as if she was trying to remind them (or herself), “He's been away on assignment for the past six months.”

“The half-mask and slash down the side of the face also don’t make any sense,” Reid remarked, frowning at the pictures. “Is it just a coincidence that every other aspect happens to be a reflection of Hotch, or maybe it’s like a reflection of the unsub themselves so that in the unsub’s mind, they and Hotch are forever connected?” The others were silent as they contemplated the inconsistencies.

A breath wooshed out of Morgan as he reached for his phone. “Hotch and the unsub have to have crossed paths before. I’m going to have Garcia dig into him,” he said, expecting the noises of protest that erupted around him. He held up a hand, stalling their protest before it went any further.

“I’m open to suggestions if anyone has a better idea,” he said, an eyebrow raised as he dialed her number and put his phone on speaker. No one responded.

“Quantico office of omniscience and excellence, what can I do you for today?” The analyst’s quip with her bright tone coming from the phone’s speakers alleviated some of the tension in the room.

“Hey mama, I hate to ask this of you but I need you to dig into Hotch, particularly his activities since Foyet first attacked him.” The team listened with faint feelings of amusement as the analyst did a double-take, choking on her coffee. There was a moment of silence when she finally calmed down.

“So it’s not a coincidence like I had tried to convince myself?” her voice was quieter, more subdued.

“I’m afraid not, baby girl,” Morgan said, hoping the nickname would lift her mood somewhat and glad to hear her voice brighten a bit when she responded.

“I’ll get right to it then. Also!” She quickly added, “the fingerprint analysis just came through, and there was a match in the system.” That caught all of their attention as they stood up, preparing to move if they had to.

“Do we have a name?”  Prentiss asked.

“Unfortunately no, but I can tell you that it’s popped up in a bunch of crimes in the past decades—”

“What kinds, Garcia?” Rossi cut in.

Garcia hummed, eyes presumably roving across her screens. “Mainly what local PD determined to be drug-related incidents, some murders that went cold… but—and this is interesting—according to the reports, the victims apparently have ties to organized crime.”

Rossi did a double-take. “Where is the crime centered? Has there been bureau involvement in any of them?” he demanded, leaning forward over the table towards. The others watched, unsure as to what direction he’s going with his questions.

“Um, Brooklyn and Lower Manhattan… and yes the FBI was involved.” The agents watched in confusion as Rossi immediately pulled out his phone.

“I need to make a call,” he sent them a look, quelling their questions. “If I’m right about this, there won’t be any need to give a profile,” he said shortly, rushing out of the room.

The others remained standing, surprised at his abrupt exit. “So, does anyone know what that’s about?” Garcia asked.

JJ shook her head, still staring in the direction Rossi went. “Nope,” she responded, popping the ‘p’.

“Alright then, Garcia, I want you to send over everything you have on the previous crimes,” Morgan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, “and on Hotch.” She acknowledged the order, hanging up.

Putting his phone away, Morgan turned to the others. “I’ll let Rossi do whatever he’s doing. Reid, JJ, I want you two scouting the area around the victims’ homes; see if you can figure out how he disappeared. Prentiss, you and I are going to take a nice tour of some of the BDSM clubs of the city,” Morgan ordered.

“We’ll check in in two hours.”

[readwritevibe]

Maas University - Chapter 2

See Chapter 1 for summary :)

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Of course Rowan Whitethorn was her fucking RA. Her university experience had obviously just been too good up until that point, and the gods must have decided that something must be created to challenge all of the positive experiences she had been having. Aelin glared at her teammate as he went over basic dorm rules, including no alcohol, no drugs, and enforced quiet hours at 10pm on school nights. She had no doubt that Rowan would actually enforce them, either. There was no way that he was going to be the cool, chill RA that she had imagined having in the weeks leading up to her arrival at Maas University. 

She thought back to her first meeting with Rowan two days prior. She had been informed via email that all first year members of the triathlon team must meet with the upperclassmen on the team, as well as with the team’s coach, a well known former triathlete named Maeve. Each first year member had been assigned a specific time slot for their meeting. Aelin’s had been at 11:15am. This had been one of the very few times that she had deigned to arrive early to anything, which is how she bumped into her old acquaintance Ansel Briarcliff outside of the conference room. 

«No way,» the redhead had whispered as Aelin approached at 10:30am, a full 45 minutes early for her appointment. Maybe she had gone a bit overboard with this whole being early thing, but she had decided that she would let it slide, just this once.

«Are we about to be teammates again?» Aelin had slid down the wall to take a seat next to her old friend, who immediately draped an arm over Aelin’s shoulders. 

«It appears so!»

The two girls had caught up as Ansel waited for her 10:45am appointment. Just as Aelin was about to ask Ansel about her recent PRs, the doors to the conference room had swung open, and out had stepped Lysandra Ennar. Aelin’s smile had converted into a smirk almost immediately, a comment already forming on the tip of her tongue as she eyed her long-standing competitor. The dark haired girl had only smirked at Aelin as she flipped her long hair over her shoulder and walked away, though. Despite herself, Aelin couldn’t help but admire the grace with which Lysandra took every step, as if there were flashing lights on the ground that said, «step here,» as she walked. 

«What’s her problem?» Ansel rubbed her hands on her legs as she stood up, straightening out her rose gold lululemon shorts once she was finally standing. 

«It’s a long story,» Aelin amended, stretching her arms out in front of her.

Ansel held the door in one hand, looking back at Aelin over her shoulder. «It always is with you, huh?»

Aelin had simply shrugged in response, examining her nails, but her only thought as the doors in front of her shut once again had been, you have no idea. 

The next half hour had dragged, and Aelin’s mind wandered as she wondered what kinds of questions they could possibly be asking in there. She assumed they were probably covering the typical things, like best times, goals, rules, and expectations, but surely that all wouldn’t take half an hour. After what seemed like an eternity, however, the doors had reopened, and Ansel had stepped out, pulling at the hem of her loose, white t-shirt. Aelin had immediately jumped to her feet, grabbing the door from her friend and pulling it closed behind her. It was time for her to answer some questions, and hopefully for her to get some answers of her own.

At the very end of the room there was one long table with about seven people seated behind it. Aelin had immediately decided that there was no way that this was the entire team. In the middle of the table sat a woman in a black blazer with a white blouse underneath, a crooked smile gracing her face as she scribbled something down on the paper in front of her. Her black hair was pulled back into a simple French braid, which was tied off at the nape of her neck, letting the rest of her hair curl freely down her back. Coach Maeve, Aelin had immediately noted, before shifting her gaze to the woman’s right. She immediately recognized Nehemia Ytger, having raced against her multiple times during the two years that their high school careers had overlapped. Aelin had always liked Nehemia, who gave off what she could only describe as a soothing energy, despite the fact that the two had hardly said more than two sentences to each other. Next to Nehemia sat a boy with pale skin and black hair. He smiled at Aelin as her gaze flicked over him, his face tugging at some memory deep in the recesses of her mind. She had offered a smile to him in return, even as her gaze wandered over to the boy next to him, who was all angles and tanned skin. He held eye contact with Aelin for all of one second before averting his gaze to what must have been a very captivating ceiling tile. Fine then, be that way, was her only thought as she turned to the other far end of the table. There sat her cousin, Aedion, who winked in her direction before whispering something into the ear of the blonde boy beside him. Aedion’s friend was rather muscular Aelin noted, as he threw a lopsided grin in her direction. 

That’s when Aelin had seen him for the first time. Rowan freaking Whitethorn, sitting on Coach Maeve’s left side, his eyes narrowing as he took her in. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as she gazed back at him, taking in his snow white hair, sun-tanned skin, and pine green eyes. He had held her gaze for a few seconds before looking over at whatever Coach Maeve had been writing down on her papers.

The Coach herself glanced up now and cleared her throat. «Welcome! Miss Galathynius, I presume?»

«Yes, coach!» Aelin had smiled directly back, only to find that Coach Maeve’s smile did not reach her eyes.

«Good, good,» was all the coach had replied, before continuing, «So, Miss Galathynius, can you tell us a little about your triathlon career up until this point?»

«Of course!» Aelin smiled again, uncrossing her arms and placing them at her sides. «I’ve been coached by Arobynn Hamel since I was seven years old. My PR in the sprint distance was one hour and three minutes flat, and my PR in the olympic distance was two hours, seventeen minutes, and twenty-two seconds.» 

«And those were both achieved at the high school national championship race, correct?» Coach Maeve’s smile opened wider, revealing a perfect set of straight, blindingly white teeth.

Aelin had practically been glowing as she answered, energy buzzing through her body, down to her feet and back up to her shoulders. «Yes. I got the gold there twice, silver once, and bronze once.»

«A true national champion,» Coach Maeve had mused.

«And a humble one, at that,» Rowan had muttered, sliding a paper to his right. 

«There’s nothing wrong with a girl being proud of her accomplishments,» Nehemia had reprimanded him before turning to face Aelin again. «Especially in such a male dominated sport. I always got the sense that you were a true competitor.» 

Aelin had let loose a little laugh as she responded, «I hope I at least gave you a good chase when I got that silver.»

«Rest assured, you did.» There was a sparkle in Nehemia’s eye as she sat up in her chair, her gaze never dropping from Aelin’s. 

«Those are both rather impressive times for a high schooler.» Coach Maeve’s voice silenced all other whispers and mumbling. «It’s a shame about Hamel, though. At least he can say that he did well on you before his career ended.»

Aelin’s smile had immediately faltered, her thoughts drifting back to the events of the previous spring. No, her own voice cut through the chatter in her mind. I can’t go back there. Not yet. Her gaze had shifted to the floor as she quietly replied, «Sure is.»

«How did you handle the summer season without a coach?» Rowan’s question had cut through the air like a knife. 

Aelin could feel her cousin’s eyes upon her as she looked up, but the only gaze she held was Rowan’s as she responded. «I actually took the summer season off from racing, for personal reasons. I still maintained a training schedule, though. Aedion can vouch for me.»

«She did indeed train with me all summer.» Aedion’s voice was practically music to Aelin’s ears. «We followed the training plan that you sent out, Rowan.»

Maeve had nodded as she interjected, «Impressive.» Rowan had simply narrowed his eyes at Aelin again.

The tan boy at the end of the table had spoken up at that point. «Are your personal issues resolved?» He had looked at Aelin as if she was a puzzle that he was trying to piece together. «That is to say, can you race this fall?»

Aelin had nodded, swallowing a lump that she had not realized had formed in her throat. «Yes,» had been her answer, «I’m ready to crush my old PR’s and add some more medals to my collection.» She flashed a grin at the table, although even she had realized how contrived it felt.

«That’s what we like to hear,» was all Coach Maeve had said. Rowan, again, had simply been glaring at her. «And I think that’s all we have to ask. You may go now. We’ll send the practice schedule for next week out in an email.» Aelin had nodded, immediately turning around and striding towards the door. Upon entering the hallway, she saw a girl with a sleek black ponytail slowly rising the her feet. Once the girl had grabbed the door from Aelin, she began her journey back towards her dorm room, whipping out her phone and sending Aedion a special grocery list. That meeting had left her desiring some fun liquid dinners for the next few nights.

A sharp jab in her ribs brought her back to the present. Ansel was waving her hand in the air like she was Hermione Granger in class during her first year at Hogwarts. «Yes, you may go first.» Rowan called from the stage. Aelin watched his expression wither as he realized who he had called on. 

«Hello,» Ansel began, rubbing her hands to flatten out her black denim skirt as she stood. «My name is Ansel, I’m from Erilea, I’m currently undeclared, and a fun fact about me is that I learned how to ride a horse around the same time I learned how to ride a bike!»

«Thank you, Ansel.» Rowan’s eyes were closed, his hands splayed out in front of him with his palms facing towards the ceiling. «Whoever’s sitting next to you may go next.»

Aelin stood up, smirking right at Rowan as he opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. «Hi, my name is Aelin,» she began, holding eye contact with her RA, «I’m also from Erilea. More specifically, I’m from Orynth, if you know where that is. I’m an English lit major, and a fun fact about me is that I’m a two time national champion in triathlon.» She offered Rowan a wide smile as she retook her seat, cracking her knuckles as she watched him take yet another deep breath. Somewhere in the back of the room, somebody let out a low whistle.

Next to her, Feyre began to rise to her feet. «My name is Feyre, I’m from Prythian, I’m majoring in fine arts and art history, and I know how to shoot a bow and arrow.» Each word flew out of her roommates mouth, and yet her annunciation of each syllable was clean and clear, intentional. Aelin draped one arm around her roommate, and the other around Ansel, looking to her right as Bryce began to take her turn. 

Introductions seemed to drag on forever. Most of them blended together, save for a select few that stuck out in Aelin’s mind. It appeared that Lysandra also happened to be living on their floor, along with another girl by the name of Elide Lochan, who Aelin vaguely remembered from her early childhood. Beyond that, Aelin had kept an ear out for Ansel’s roommates, but all she had taken away from that were that Mor and Fury were definitely, in fact, two very different people. 

Once introductions had finally concluded, and Rowan had deigned to dismiss them, Aelin immediately turned to Ansel. «What room are you in? We can meet you there around ten o’clock and head over to the frat together.» 

Ansel nodded. «Sounds like a plan. We’re in 315.»

«Perfect.» Aelin laced her arms through Feyre’s and Danika’s, and began to walk toward the door. «See you then!»

«What does one even wear to a college party?» Bryce’s voice drifted towards Aelin from where she stood on the other side on Danika.

«Easy,» Danika replied as they neared their door. She deftly unlinked arms with Aelin and pulled her key out of her pocket, pushing the door open and rushing in. «Something flirty and fun, but also a little edgy, and not too nice. This is a frat house, after all.»

Aelin wrinkled her nose, picturing all of the beer that was sure to be coating the floor of the party. «Yeah, don’t wear nice shoes. Non-athletic sneakers usually do the trick - Converse, vans, whatever your style is.» She opened the door to her bedroom, tossing her keys on her desk as she flicked the light switch. With one movement, she threw open the doors to her wardrobe as Feyre entered their bedroom as well, sighing and bypassing her own wardrobe altogether.

Aelin frowned at her roommate, noting the bare walls above her bed as she looked over her shoulder. «You haven’t decorated!»

Feyre waved her off, frowning in the direction of her wardrobe. «I also don’t know what I’m going to wear tonight.»

Aelin gave her a quick once-over, cracking her knuckles and turning to fully face her roommate. «Well, in my expert opinion,» she began, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she freed it from her messy bun, «your jeans are fine. What are you wearing under your hoodie?» Her eyes darted down to Feyre’s feet, which were in a pair of black vans with tiny white stars splattered all over. «Did you paint your shoes yourself?»

Feyre also looked down at her feet now as she unzipped her hoodie. «Yeah.» She sighed. «All I have on under my hoodie is this red tank top.» 

«The tank top is perfect,» Aelin replied, turning back to her own wardrobe. She eyed a red denim skirt with buttons up and down the entire front, and hastily grabbed it off the hanger. She chucked her jeans into her laundry bin, tucking her black rolling stones t-shirt into her skirt before buttoning it back up again. «I wouldn’t wear those shoes though, if I were you. Do you have anything else?» Aelin looked at her own feet now, sliding off her Birkenstocks in favor of a pair of old black vans.

«I have a pair of knock-off black converse.» Feyre was biting her lip as she tossed her hoodie onto her bed and made her way over to her own wardrobe. She held up the shoes for inspection. They were so worn out and scuffed that they were almost grey in some places. 

«Those are perfect.» 

Aelin moved to their bathroom, which was at the end of their room opposite the windows, and began applying makeup. Feyre, on the other hand, was scrolling on her phone.

«We can take pictures tonight,» Aelin called out to her from the bathroom. «That way you have an actual picture of you to post on your instagram!» 

From their bedroom, she could hear Feyre shoving her phone in the small black purse that had been sitting on her desk, and zipping the bag. After checking her reflection in the mirror, Aelin smiled and flicked off the bathroom light, grabbing her own phone and keys from her desk and scrolling through some notifications. «Hey,» she called, walking into the main room, «Ansel said that they’re pregaming in her room, if you want to go!»

«Hell yeah!» Danika practically ran out of her room, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. That girl’s energy was contagious. She was wearing a black crop top and the same black skinny jeans she had been wearing earlier, but this time with a grey flannel tied around her hips. Her roommate’s eyes raked over Aelin’s attire before turning to examine Feyre. «We look hot!»

Behind Danika, Bryce exhaled through her nose and smiled. As Aelin took her in, she nodded in agreement with Danika’s previous statement. Bryce wore a skin tight white bodysuit, tucked into a black mini skirt that hugged her hips and thighs. She wore thigh high black boots with a heel that almost made Aelin cringe. As if reading her mind, Bryce reassured her, «Don’t worry, these shoes are almost three years old.»

«For someone who’s never been to a party before, you sure know how to dress.» 

Bryce laughed in reply, already making her way towards the door. «I’ve been dreaming of this day for a long time.» 

«Welcome to your dream come true» Feyre responded with a small eye roll, quietly pulling the dorm door shut behind her. 

Aelin rolled her eyes at the cheesy comment as well as she grabbed her roommate’s hand and all but dragged her down the hall, racing towards Ansel’s room. She could feel her hair fanning out behind her, and hoped that this might give her a more windswept look. Her fist rapped against the door of room 315 three times as Danika and Bryce caught up with her and Feyre, talking in low tones about some city that Aelin vaguely recalled being located in Valbara. The door swung open before she could interrupt their conversation with any questions of her own, though. Ansel greeted the group, wearing a low cut red bodysuit, a black miniskirt, and red high-top converse. «It’s about time!» She gestured towards the room, and Aelin took the cue and entered.

Their room had an almost identical layout to Aelin’s own dorm, which wasn’t surprising. What really caught her eye though were the various handles of flavored vodka sitting on the white plastic table in the middle of the room. A blonde girl emerged from the bedroom on the left side of the room, pursing her lips as she eyed the table as well. Aelin barely noted the dorm door shutting behind them as the blonde said, «I see no mixers on this table, so I’m assuming we’re doing shots?» Her brown eyes flicked over to Ansel, who was making her way to the kitchen herself. She came to stand next to a girl with brown hair that fell in soft curls around her face, accompanied by another girl with narrow eyes and sleek, dark hair. 

Ansel simply sighed, placing her hands on her hips. «I suppose so.» She added, «Good thing I brought shot glasses.» In one quick move, she crossed the kitchen and stood before the cabinets, her hands extending towards the top shelf, which she had to stand on her toes to reach. Her efforts produced eight glasses, which she laid out on the counter one by one.

The brown haired girl began fidgeting with her fingers. «Maybe I shouldn’t. One of us should be sober, right?»

«Juniper, right?» Bryce made her way from the hallway into the kitchen, standing next to Ansel’s roommate, who nodded. «I’m about to take my first shot tonight, and I would be honored to take it side by side with you.» Juniper pursed her lips, eyeing the various handles on the table.

Danika rolled her eyes, taking a spot next to Bryce. «Come on, you dorks! Let’s all take the first shot of the night together.»

Slowly, the remaining girls made their way to the table, and Ansel distributed the shot glasses among them. Aelin decided upon the rose vodka, and filled up her shot glass. She held the handle out over the table, looking around at her companions to see if anybody else wanted it. To her left, Ansel’s blonde roommate grabbed the handle from her hands. «Now this,» she stated as she poured herself a shot, «is the kind of girl power I need in my life.»

Aelin tilted her head back in laughter. «You’re Morrigan, right?»

«Yep!» Her voice was high in pitch, but not shrill. «Most people call me Mor, though.»

«Aelin,» was all Aelin offered in response, taking in the red dress Mor was wearing.

«I remember,» Mor replied, a small smile gracing her lips. 

«Okay, on the count of three!» Ansel’s voice grabbed Aelin’s attention, and she quickly picked up her shot glass. «One, two, three!» The liquid burned as Aelin swallowed it in one gulp, but she reminded herself that the feeling afterward would be well worth it. To her right, Feyre shook her head and made a noise of disgust, sticking her tongue out as she placed her shot glass down on the table.

«First time?» Mor asked at the same time Aelin asked, «What flavor?»

«Yes.» Feyre winced again. «Mango-pineapple.��

Danika shook her head from the adjacent side of the table, already pouring her second shot. «That was your first mistake.»

Bryce simply looked up at her roommate and stated, «You also took a shot of mango-pineapple vodka.»

«Yes, but I never claimed to have good taste.»

Aelin laughed, reaching for her phone, which was on the table. «Before we do more, can we take some pictures?»

Ansel rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone out of Aelin’s hand. «Of course, princess! Where do you want them?»

Several shots, and many pictures later, the eight girls were walking down the sidewalk, the humid summer air wrapping around Aelin like a warm hug. Or maybe the heat was just a side effect of the alcohol. Either way, she wasn’t complaining. It was rather obvious which house was hosting the party, based on the music blaring through the street and the red solo cups that were somehow already strewn along the fence line. Ansel marched the group right up to the front door and into the house, not stopping to look at a single person along the way. Then, they were off. Aelin lost track of her companions as she danced around to songs that she only half knew the lyrics to, jumping until her legs had no more energy left. At that point she dipped into the kitchen. Those red solo cups had to be coming from somewhere, she reasoned. 

The kitchen was rather empty compared to the rest of the house. Only a few people milled about, such as the two men having a conversation while leaning against the counter. Aelin spotted a box of white claws on the floor, and immediately began digging around for her favorite flavor. They couldn’t possibly already be out of lime. After a minute or two of searching, her hand wrapped around her prize, and she stood up, stumbling backwards slightly into a pair of cold hands. 

Hands. Aelin immediately jumped away and spun around, eyeing what she could only describe as the prettiest man she had ever seen. He was now running one hand through his dark hair, his violet eyes meeting hers as he looked up again. «Are you okay?» His voice was as smooth as honey.

«Yeah,» Aelin replied smoothly, cracking open her white claw, «You just scared me, is all.»

«No need to fear,» he said with a breathless laugh. «You’re Aedion’s cousin, aren’t you?»

Aelin rolled her eyes and took a long sip before answering. «Yes, Aedion is my cousin. I’m Aelin, and you are?» She raised one eyebrow at the guy she has just stumbled into.

«Rhysand,» was his reply.

«Are you in this frat?» She took another sip. «Because if so, may I suggest renovating this kitchen?» She gestured towards the appliances to her right. «I think this stove is older than my dad.»

He chuckled, his eyes gazing out over the crowd in the living room. «No, I’m just here to gather information about how this frat is holding their party.»

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, taking a step away and then turning her gaze back towards the living room. «Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting some top-secret fraternity intelligence mission?» She spotted Bryce and Danika dancing on top of a coffee table with Juniper and Fury, red solo cups in hand. 

«You could call it that,» Rhysand answered with a shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Aelin was about to respond when she saw a head full of white hair standing out amongst the rest of the crowd. Her smile fell from her face, and she placed her white claw on the counter. «What’s wrong?» Rhysand’s voice rang out from her left, sounding almost muffled as she watched Rowan Whitethorn weave through the crowd.

«My RA is here,» she nearly whispered, her eyes searching the crowd frantically for her other roommates. Luckily for her, Bryce and Danika were in clear view, moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music on their elevated surface, but Feyre was nowhere to be seen. As soon as Aelin had finished the thought, her eyes locked onto her target. Feyre stood in the middle of the living room, talking to a boy in a green polo and khaki shorts with blonde hair that fell to his chin. Aelin placed a hand on Rhysand’s arm and began to formulate her plan. «Can you distract him while I grab my roommates and get the hell out of here?»

«Yeah, sure. You want me to distract Rowan Whitethorn, right?» His arm fell out from under Aelin’s hand. «On it.»

Aelin took a deep breath and weaved through the crowd towards Feyre, not stopping until she was holding her roommate’s elbow in her hands. «We have to go.» Aelin glanced back over her shoulder once, watching as Rowan narrowed his eyes at Rhysand, who was chattering away. Feyre started to pull away from Aelin’s grip, but Aelin only tightened her hold, looking at her roommate with wide eyes. «Now.»

«It was nice meeting you, Tamlin,» Feyre called over her shoulder as Aelin pulled her towards the coffee table where Danika and Bryce were still dancing. It was nothing short of a miracle that Rowan hadn’t seen them yet. 

Aelin tugged on Danika’s hand, instantly getting her attention. «Rowan’s here. We’ve got to get the hell out of dodge.» Danika nodded, immediately grabbing Bryce and tersely explaining the situation to the two other girls on the table, who also hopped down and weaved their way into the crowd.

The door was Aelin’s only target now. She pulled her roommates in a line through the crowd, ignoring the sweaty bodies that bumped into her along the way. She didn’t let up until their feet hit the sidewalk, and even then her pace didn’t slow. She was relentless in dragging them, quickly buzzing them into their dorm building and calling the elevator, only stopping to catch her breath once they were all inside of it.

«Fuck the RAs!» Danika’s voice echoed in the elevator as she giggled, her laughing only ceasing for a hiccup. «We were having a good-ass time!»

All three girls nodded in agreement, but it was Feyre who spoke first as the elevator doors opened. «Have you ever been in love?» She stumbled slightly as she made her way down the hallway, and Bryce immediately swooped her side.

«No,» was Danika’s near instant answer.

«I mean,» Bryce began, pulling her key out of her boot and unlocking the door. «I dated this guy in high school, named Reid, but he was a douche, so I don’t think we were in love.»

«Fuck Reid,» Danika replied, flopping down onto the couch and stretching out her arms and legs.

«It’s okay, I stole a bottle of wine from his parent’s wine rack right before I broke up with him.» Bryce inclined her head towards the room she shared with Danika. «I still have it, right in my suitcase.»

«We will definitely be cracking that open at some point.» Aelin poured herself  a glass of water right from the kitchen sink as she spoke.

«What about you, Aelin?» Feyre’s eyes met hers from where Bryce had gently sat her down in one of the chairs. Her grey eyes felt like they were drilling into Aelin’s very soul as she asked. «Have you ever been in love?»

Aelin crossed the room and handed Feyre one glass of water before returning to the sink and pouring herself another one, using the sink handles as an excuse to drop Feyre’s gaze. «Yes.» She hated how soft her voice was.

«What was it like?»

Aelin bit her lip, averting her gaze towards the ceiling. «It was all encompassing, like a hug so tight that it could crush me at any moment.»

«Was it Sam?» Feyre’s voice had also gotten soft now, and her eyes were wider than before. Aelin didn’t answer, and instead only reached for her water, hating how her traitorous hand began to shake. «Where is he now?»

She placed the now empty glass on the counter. «Goodnight, girls.» She silently cursed her voice for cracking as she walked towards her bedroom, and pulled the door shut behind her.