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he's a scumbag

@twatdealerfromdalehead / twatdealerfromdalehead.tumblr.com

this is a side blog for my fics and reblogging of other great fics. main blog is audreyoppar Master List
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HI EVERYONE

Hello to all of the amazing people who follow this blog.

I just wanted to apologize for not finishing my stories as of 9/17/2020. I AM FINISHING THEM. I have Fall almost done, and I’m so excited to finish it, it’s just taking me sooooo long because of school and Life, am I right?? I’m over 150 pages for Fall, and I swear I’m almost done.

I’m also working on Finn’s POV from Fall. Not sure why, but I was so interested in how it would be from his perspective. And TBH, I am SO HAPPY with this I’m already to 40 pages in Word for the story. I may do it as a chaptered fic, but it really gives me a Oneshot vibes. I will decide at the end of writing the story.

I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS. I never made this blog for the the follow count, I just really wanted to share my writing with everyone. I hope anyone who is still following is doing okay during these trying times.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU.

And as always, BLACK LIVES MATTER AND ALWAYS HAVE.

REGISTER TO VOTE AND GET TRUMP OUT OF OFFICE. Your voice is important, and this is literally one of the most important elections of modern U.S. history.

Be responsible and VOTE, VOTE, VOTE. 

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Fall (Part 7/10)

Oh My God. Hi everyone. Do you remember me?? No? It’s okay; I wouldn’t remember me either... It’s been a long, long time. I haven’t been writing at all these last couple of years, real life taking up too much time. But recently I’ve been revisiting my writing, and got a great inspiration boost.

I really like this chapter. I hope everyone who reads it will as well. This is the chapter I realized that there will be 10 chapters to this story. I’m SO GLAD that I picked up writing this again. This picks up right after chapter 6, so you may need a refresher!

Trigger Warning: Physical abuse

Word Count: 10626

I’m going to tag everyone who asked me to do so years ago, see if they’re still interested.

@areyousad8118​ @how-ardently​ @nutinanutshell​ @celestev31​ @kneekeyta​ @thatfunnygirllauren​ @raernundo​ @pink-royaute @courtkismet @bitchy-broken​ @thisissomefreshbullshit​ @catscupcakesandhissyfits​ @girlwithafoxhat​ @bornfanatic​ @kristicallahan @rinncincin​ @im-an-emu​ @thewhileloop​ @theblanknotebook​

Chapter 7

Wouldn’t it be nice if we Could leave behind the mess we’re in Could dig beneath these old troubles return To find something amazing And wouldn’t it be cool if we Sail this ship to calmer seas Turn our backs on bush fires burn. Leave it on the coast

 I’m frozen as I watch Liam raise his hand to shake Finn’s. They move as if they’re in half speed; like their bodies are struggling through invisible molasses. I blink and all at once, every detail is perfectly clear. I see the sweat just barely beading Liam’s forehead and upper lip. I see where Finn missed while shaving; the lint on his t-shirt. Liam’s creased collar. Finn swallowing; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The tense lines of Liam’s face. The tight fist Finn has hanging by his waist.

I slowly move my eyes between them, my heart about to beat out of my chest. They continue the tortuously slow pace, and my focus is now solely on their hands as they get closer. Liam situates his right palm against Finn’s in slow motion; squeezing it gently but firmly in a shake. My eyes burn from not blinking, but I can’t look away. It dawns on me that one of my worst fears is coming true, and it sends cold tendrils through my veins; turning my heartbeat icy and heavy. I move my gaze back to their faces, my body almost numb from the adrenaline and dread pumping through me. Eyes watering, I finally blink.

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Anonymous asked:

How do you write the Fall?

I’m half tempted to write a smart-ass comment about typing and using Word, but I’ll rein in the sarcasm for what I’m assuming is a serious question. (I think?)

Well, how do I answer this? Let me start with some background, I guess. I thought up the story when I was, to be frank, feeling very sorry for myself. I wanted to write something that hurt someone else as much as I was hurting. Misery loves company and all that. It was ridiculously easy to get chapter one written, actually.

Then, I just sort of started thinking about what sort of things would scare me in a relationship. I imagined situations and scenarios in which I was in danger or felt scared of my partner. I envisioned the abuse that would occur. The aftermath of it. How it would feel trying to hide all of that and put up a front. My deepest and darkest fears of being in a relationship, I guess. 

I also had to delve into the mind of an abuser. The kind of thrill that came with the power they wield over someone. The surge of adrenaline that courses through their veins when they watch someone cower in front of them. Love for the control over a person.

When writing Fall, I reach into the dark imagination that hangs out at the back of my mind, and work with whatever comes out. Sometimes, I don’t even know where it comes from, and that’s a little scary. And there are times where it’s not even a conscious decision. I write what flows out, which is the most terrifying lol. I’ve gotten a little choked up writing some of the scenes, and flat out getting emotional over one scene in particular (I don’t have to say which one, right?).

The dream in the last chapter was an actual dream I had. Or, nightmare, rather. I just changed some things to fit the setting of the story.

It’s interesting what the subconscious mind produces, whether we like it or not. Mine has just happened to provide things that are hard to deal with.

They’re great to write about, though. But only because I live for angst. I like to write these types of hard-to-handle stories because it helps me work out a lot of what plagues me. Plus, writing the dark stuff is empowering. If I can get through something scary or sad or angsty or troubling, then it’s so much easier to write the happy. Idk, maybe I’m better at handling the bad things in life.

I’m not sure if that’s what you were looking for, anon, but I hope you’re pleased with the answer.

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Anonymous asked:

Hello will you be continuing Fall :3 ?

Absolutely! I try to never start something I can't or won't finish. Fall is very important to me, and I have every intention of seeing it to the end.I started Fall when there was a lot of shit going on in my life, and what seemed like my only release was to channel all of that anger and sadness into writing. Fall is a story of despair and abuse and regret. Rae is not happy, and she hasn't been for quite a while. She became the embodiment of my feelings at the time; and I could never abandon her so close to her happy ending.That being said, it's so much easier to write sad things when you're sad. I am not sad anymore. It takes a lot out of me to get into Rae's mindset, and I have to be prepared for that. I also need to make sure everything that happens in the story is cohesive and believable.And aside from that, I just need more time. With work and school (and this guy. lbr, guys take work), I'm left with very little time to write. But I am writing.So please be patient. I'm always so grateful for my readers, and I'm so happy that you like the story enough to want more.Audrey

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Vive Tu Vida (pt 1/?)

I done wrote something! It’s not Fall, true, but it is a story you’ve seen before! I’ve just added an actual plot and characters and all that fun stuff. And tbh, I’m quite excited for this mobster!finn story to unfold. It’s going to be great.

It takes place in Los Angeles, which is quite a far ways away from good ol’ England. What can I say? I love putting my characters in unknown territory.

Things will get graphic in this story, but if you take into account the kind of life they lead, it’d be irresponsible of me to gloss over the violence Finn and co live with daily. I will try to make it as easy to stomach as possible, but there are aspects to cruelty that I just can’t sugarcoat.

Also! I’m trying to become proficient in Spanish, so I figured what better place to test my abilities than in a story in Southern California! That being said, I still have troubles with the language, so if someone would take pity on me and walk me through some things, I’d 10000% appreciate it. Phrases, spelling, that kind of stuff. (google leaves a lot to be desired.)

Message if you would like/be willing to help me!

Does anyone want to be tagged for this story?

~.~.~.~.~.~

Finn leads a life of misery, pain, and regret. The gun in his hand and the money in his pocket have been there since birth, and the older he gets, the more his hopes of freedom begin to turn into a pipe dream. But one fateful birthday brings a person into his life that promises greener pastures. In the end, he has to make a decision: stay with what he knows, or explore the unknown.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Finn shut his eyes and heaved a great sigh. The three of them had been here almost two hours, and absolutely fuck all was happening. Chop was beating a loose piece of road against the curb, and Finn got lost in the repetitive beat. It echoed in his mind until all he could do was listen and stare at nothing.                           

"Finn. Jesus Christ, mate. Snap out of it." Finn blinked away the unfocused image of buildings as the sound cut out almost violently from his head. He looked at Chop's wrinkled, slightly dirty suit and smiled.

"Right, sorry. Just zoned out."

"Alright, well your dad called. We're done."

Finn blinked once more in confusion and set his mouth in an annoyed moue, "We've been here hours. What happened?"

"I dunno, mate. I'm sure we'll see soon enough, eh?" Chop shrugged into his leather jacket and flipped the collar up, to protect against the biting cold wind that would sting their skin as soon as they left the glass enclosure. Finn sighed again and wrapped his scarf around his neck; twisting into the action as he looked for Archie behind him. The brunette was slouched in a hard, plastic lawn chair; his face propped up uncomfortably on his hand as his mouth hung open. Finn could almost feel the sore pain his friend would experience, and stepped forward to wake him.

"Arch, get up, mate. We're finished here."

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itsmirallegro were you the lovely lady who talked about mobster Finn to an ask? Are you reading my mind, hm? Because I’ve also been thinking about that.

~.~.~.~.~

Finn shut his eyes and heaved a great breath. The three of them had been here almost an hour, and absolutely fuck all was happening. Chop was beating a loose piece of road against the curb, and Finn got lost in the repetitive beat. It echoed in his mind until all he could do was listen and stare at nothing.

"Finn. Jesus Christ, mate. Snap out of it." Finn blinked away the unfocused image of buildings as the sound cut out almost violently from his head. He looked at Chop’s wrinkled, slightly dirty suit and smiled.

"Right, sorry. Just zoned out."

"Alright, well your dad called. We’re done."

Finn blinked once more in confusion and set his mouth in an annoyed moue, “We’ve been here hours. What happened?”

"I dunno, mate. I’m sure we’ll see soon enough, eh?" Chop shrugged into his leather jacket and flipped the collar up, against the biting cold wind that would sting their skin as soon as they left the glass enclosure. Finn sighed and wrapped his scarf; twisting into the action as he looked for Archie behind him. The brunette was slouched in a hard, plastic lawn chair, his face propped up uncomfortably on his hand. Finn could almost picture the sore pain his friend would feel, and stepped forward to wake him.

"Arch, get up, mate. We’re finished up here."

The other man jolted to action as Finn shook his limp shoulder. “Wha say?” Finn laughed loudly and repeated himself before moving toward the exit. Chop stood next to the door, leaning back against the unforgiving bricks and smoking a cigarette. He chuckled when Finn looked over and gestured it to him.

"Warms you from the inside out, eh?"

Finn laughed under his breath and unlocked the Jag, scooting in and shutting the door quickly. He turned the heat on full blast and rubbed his hands together as he waited for his friends. If his father had indeed gotten what he wanted; it was going to be quite the long night.

~.~.~.~.~.~ Finn flinched at the sound of another punch reverberating around the small, concrete room. Fist hitting flesh over and over, the blood from the man’s face adding a slick sort of smacking quality. He looked away as the cowering, pathetic little man coughed loudly and began to cry harder. Finn’s father rose his hand up in the air and Karlof let the man drop, falling to his knees and curling into the fetal position.

"Thank you, Karlof. Let’s give him some time to think about it. I’d like a moment alone with my son."

The lackey just nodded and walked out the door without his victim. Finn looked at his father in confusion, and the older man sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed them before focusing on Finn with his sharp gaze.

"You are uncomfortable."

Finn let out a surprised grunt and blinked, “What are you talking about?”

"Son, don’t try to deny it. I watch you flinch and look away and rush for the exit. Why does it bother you so much?"

Finn gaped at his dad and let the tortured sound of a weeping, bloody, half-dead man fill the empty space between them. His father sighed again and placed his big hands on Finn’s shoulders; the heavy weight of them digging into Finn’s flesh.

"I’m expecting you to be ready for this soon. What I do. What you’re supposed to do. How everyone else does their job. You have to know what to do when the time comes." Finn’s body flooded with shame and he looked away from the tired man in front of him. "I understand."

"Good. Now," his father grasped his shoulders painfully before letting go, "suck it up and act as if you actually want to run this outfit."

Finn just nodded and waited for his father to clear his throat, signalling for his son to leave. Finn zoomed out of there and breathed deeply in the corridor; fresh air from an open warehouse filling his lungs. He wanted to close his eyes and enjoy it, but knew that Carlos’ beating would be playing on the insides of his eyelids for a while. If the fucking moron had just kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t have to be beaten within an inch of his life. And, in all honesty, probably tortured until they finally got the truth out of him. The only thing to do after that was kill him. His father was always a fan of brute force doing the job.

As the screams started up again; Finn shook off the filth of the room that clung to him and blackened his heart. He began playing the song Chop’s stone had created earlier that day on repeat in his head. He started humming it loudly to drown out what was, most likely, Karlof breaking the fingers of a person Finn would miss.

As he flung open the metal door, he welcomed the wind that blew harshly against his ears. It drowned out everything until all he heard was the rapid beating of his heart and Chop’s song as he tried not to think of the way they’d kill his friend of ten years.

He hated his fucking life.

What is this?? Will you be thinkin about carrying this on?? Im not sure why but I’m kinda drawn to this xx

mallyallyandra so this has been in my drafts for forever, apparently! Sorry about the late reply xoxo Haha, idk, I read something Aiyana wrote about it looooong ago, and the idea popped into my head. I have half a chapter written already, heh. Its either going to be a long one shot (cross your fingers this is the case), or a short chaptered fic.

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While I struggle to get my fics out, I figured I could still be useful to the fandom somehow.

If anyone would like a different set of eyes to look over their fics before publishing; I can be of assistance. I can edit it, if you’d like, or just give you some feedback and let you do all the work (heh). Or we can discuss other methods of proofreading, idk. Depending on the length of your fic, it’ll only take me between 3-7 days to read it and add my commentary. I will in no way berate or belittle you; just give you helpful hints and some loving advice. (Also edit it in MW, if you so desire. My revisions are always color coded and easy to follow haha.)

If anyone wants to take me up on this offer, just shoot me a message, and I’ll get back to you within a day!

Thanks, Audrey

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I haven't read this, but I know it will be great I loved all the other parts, could I be added to you tag list please :)

Absolutely :)

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Fall (Part 6/?)

Hi guys. I hope you’re all as excited as I am for this chapter. I’m fucking ecstatic for it, if we’re being honest. Than anon message from the other day really got me going.

I’m really fortunate to have such lovely readers, and I love you all. Thanks for sticking with me as I slowly, slooooowly, get this damn story out.

I apologize for any grammatical errors.

Word Count: 8900

Trigger Warning: Graphic depiction of death and mutilation. (That prolly sounds worse than it is, but I can’t think of another term. After reading, if someone has a better suggestion, please let me know.)

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

________________________________

CHAPTER 6

As I glance once upon the foam

40 feet beneath my feet

The coldest calm falls

Through the molten veins

Cooling all the blood to slush

That congeals around again

The rain has all but burned off as a warm sun decides to brighten the day. Maybe it sensed Sue’s desperation for good weather and took pity; shining hot and bright over the massive crowd. Everywhere I turn, there’s a person cheering or singing along or taking pictures on cardboard disposables. There’s hardly any walking room and the people seem to love it. To be honest, if I were in their shoes, I would feel the same. Totally carefree and high on the feeling and sensation of being here. And possibly that suspicious looking rolled cigarette being passed around a small group of brunettes near the stage has something to do with it too.

“Quite a turnout you’ve all got for this thing.”

I nod to the loudly spoken sentiment behind me; not looking away from the chanting crowd as they sing along to Basketcase. I can’t place the voice, but it doesn’t register as someone I know. Maybe a roadie since there seems to be hundreds of them. I look at the clipboard in my hands and tick off the California-based band. Four more sets for this stage and then it’s done for the day.

“How much time did it take to set this all up?”

I turn from the crowd with a sigh and lower my clipboard. The pen in my left hand falls as my mouth gapes open. Alex Kapranos stands before me; light brown hair swept over his forehead with a friendly grin. I feel my face heat as embarrassment wells up inside me.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize you were…”

Without knowing how to finish that without sounding like a star struck wanker, I quickly look away and start to pick at the soft edge of the clipboard. He just smiles and holds up his hands.

“Don’t worry; you’re working and I’m bothering you.”

“No! I mean, I’m finished for now. I’m not allowed to do much, so I have a lot of, uh, free time. As it were. Sir.”

He chuckles and bends down to get my pen; tucking it under the metal clip of the clipboard that’s now digging into my hands from my tight grip when he straightens. I called him sir, oh my God. I must sound like the world’s biggest idiot.

“I can understand why. What happened to ya?”

His lilting Scottish accent makes it hard to focus on words. His tone is quiet and friendly, and I find myself smiling in response. But boy, am I getting tired of that question. My smile falls slowly and I begin to tear the edge of the clipboard apart.

“I was in an accident. Nothing time won’t heal.”

“Aye, that’s a bummer. A mate of mine got in a right nasty fight a couple years ago, and he was in about the same state that you’re in.”

I swallow, not sure what to say. I can’t tell if he’s just comparing his friends’ wounds to mine, or if there’s something he’s trying to be subtle about. He still has a pleasant expression, which doesn’t help me. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his faded black jeans and shrugs. I open my mouth to try and respond, but he laughs a little.

“Sorry, that was terribly rude. It’s just a surprise to see a lovely young woman such as yourself marred by the bastards of the world. Please forgive my prying.”

“No, it’s, um, alright. A lot of people can’t stop themselves from asking. It’s like I’m the only person they’ve seen after being in an accident.”

“I think it’s a shock when people are met with such brutality inflicted on an unwilling and beautiful person.”

I open and close my mouth a few times, completely at a loss for words. I begin to rip the now frayed corner of the clipboard, dropping paper thin pieces of cardboard to the floor. We stand there in a strange silence, my brain stuttering for a reply as he pulls his hand from the pocket and starts to tap his fingers to the beat of the song on stage. An unwilling and beautiful person.

“I just-”

“Rae, I need your help with- oh wow.”

I spin around to see Finn standing at my side with a box full of something I don’t focus on. He has it propped on his hip as he shakes hands with the singer in front of us.

“It’s great to meet you, man. I’m a big fan. Really looking forward to your set later.”

The singer chuckles and hangs his arms straight with his sides. His teeth are mostly straight and a little stained; but the cadence of his laugh and the shape of his lips have me silently admiring both men as they strike up a conversation. He and Finn chat for a little while I stand off to the side, thinking of a hundred things I could say to add. But I stay quiet. I watch how easy they are with each other; how natural their body language and exchange is. And I feel a huge weight settle on my shoulders. It sinks further and further until I’m full of the despair it holds, and I suddenly find myself resenting them their casual discussion. It taunts me; shoving the fact in my face that I’ll never be relaxed enough to communicate the way they are doing now.

I force all of myself to turn around and watch the American band finish up their last song. The crowd is in a hush as Billie Joe Armstrong croons the same line over and over; making every single person there lose themselves to memories the lyrics bring back to life. I hear Finn laugh behind me and close my eyes.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Later in the night, when the sun is just kissing the rolling hills in front of me, I sit on an empty set of stairs and write up my reports about the bands; terms like “quality of sound” and “audience reaction” floating around my head. My pencil jolts to a stop, though, when I hear a voice come over the speakers. He begins to sing about a girl softly with no background music. It’s hypnotizing and I find myself getting up and moving to the side of the stage, watching Alex Kapranos talk-sing into the microphone; lips almost touching the meshed metal. He strums periodically through the soliloquy and I fix my gaze on him. Then all of a sudden, the band comes alive, and I lose my breath when they begin to play together. Bob Hardy plucks at the four thick strings of his bass; leading the band into the song. Nick McCarthy sets the rhythm quickly, expertly following along with Alex on lead. Paul Thomson wails on his drum set; beating out the tune fiercely and tying the entire thing together.

When the crowd goes crazy as the song comes to an energetic end, I have it on repeat in my mind. Every movement they made; every word sung; every change in the music. The words loop again and again, burning themselves into my thoughts. And as he finishes talking to the crowd, Alex Kapranos spins to look at his bandmate; his gaze catching mine for a moment. He smiles at me before turning his attention to Nick for a quick exchange. Then he glances at me one more time before starting Auf Achse.

I stay for the next five songs and completely lose myself to it all. I’m stuck in place as the crowd begins to disperse and the band is in the back, ridding themselves of their instruments. I stare at the stage, replaying the amazing set, and let any other thoughts slowly seep out of me until all I see is Alex Kapranos warbling his and Nick McCarthy’s lyrics to a horde of their fans.

“How was it, Rae?”

The quiet voice behind me is startling enough to make me almost trip as I spin around. My heart beats a million miles a second and I reach up to cover my heart, thumping my chest with the thick cast. I let out a breath with an oof and drop my arm.

“Jesus, Rae. Are you alright?”

I nod at Quinn and feel my pulse slow enough to respond.

“I’m fine. You just scared me; that’s all.”

“Oh, okay then. Sorry about that. I thought that you had heard me.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. Anyway, what did you say?”

Quinn’s frown transforms into a large smile and her eyes light up. She looks like a giddy child and I can’t stop the small twitch of my lips.

“How were they? I’m so bummed I missed it, but The Vines were fucking awesome. I bet Alex Kapranos is cuter in person than on tv.”

“I met him, actually.”

I say it offhandedly, as if it isn’t one of the most important things to happen to me in a long time. I lose focus of Quinn and think about earlier. He had called me beautiful.

“Are you kidding? That’s so cool! What did you guys talk about?”

I blink and am back with Quinn; sighing a little before responding.

“Not much. Finn came over and they started chatting, so I just got back to work. But the band’s performance was amazing.”

Quinn hums and says something I don’t hear. I look down at my casted arms and feel something other than disgust for myself. I feel prepared. Ready for what is going to happen. Their song replays in my mind as Quinn drags me away to meet with everyone, and I smile.

Eyes boring a way through me. Paralyze, controlling completely. Now there is a fire in me. A fire that burns.

~.~.~.~.~.~

“I can’t believe it! Today went so well. I’d kiss you all on the mouth if I didn’t think a few of you would punch me.”

Some people laugh as Quinn spins around on stage with her arms spread out and her eyes shut. She looks the most carefree I’ve ever seen her, and it warms me inside out.

“There’s still tomorrow my friend. Let us celebrate when that’s over.”

“Oh Sue, why do you always have to be such a Debbie Downer? Live in the moment and be free.”

The older woman just smiles and continues to pack up. I catch her eye and she winks at me, including me in some inside joke I hadn’t known I was a part of. I feel even better now and smile at her before turning to load my own supplies into my messenger bag.

~.~.~.~

“What are you thinking about?”

I blink and Quinn comes into focus as she lets out a silent puff of smoke. I let her quiet inquiry wash over me and feel a strange sense of calmness. We sit in lawn chairs at midnight, bundled tightly in thick jackets in my backyard. The moonlight is basically our only way of seeing each other; the back porch light having burned out about five seconds after I flipped the switch. Unwinding outside had been her idea, and against my initial hesitation, I had agreed. But, it’s very peaceful and I recognize that Quinn has always been able to make a situation better. A part of me almost wishes she could stay longer.

“I’m just thinking about the future.”

I don’t tell her about the scene playing in my mind of my quitting Spotlight to get away from Finn. Letting him enjoy his job without me being there to bring up bad memories. Have him make his own roots without any tension. Quinn smiles and I push the thoughts out of my mind. She brings the half burned cigarette to her mouth, inhaling deeply as the end burns a bright red. Not very often have I felt the desire; but at the moment, all I can think about is the nicotine hitting the back of my throat; coating the inside of my mouth with its smoky flavor. I stick my left hand out and point two fingers her way in a silent gesture of sharing. Her eyebrows shoot up, but she hands it to me nonetheless with an odd little smile. I awkwardly situate the cigarette between my lips and take a deep drag; sucking the harsh smoke into my lungs and holding it for a moment. I give it back to Quinn and slowly exhale; the smoke sliding and burning its way up my throat and out of my mouth. The dense white cloud surrounds me for a moment; and I watch as it floats up toward the night sky; becoming more and more transparent until it just disappears.

“Of all the years I’ve known you, I never imagined you’ve smoked before.”

I shrug and look out over the darkened yard, burrowing deeper into my down jacket. It’s chilly but still, and there’s something in the air that leaves me feeling free and unaffected.

“With a stepdad and a boyfriend who smoked, it wasn’t uncommon for a teenage Rae to try them. Smoking isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but there are just some times when you need a cigarette.”

“Why do you need one now?”

“I’m not sure. I’m happy. And proud of everyone. I guess I just wanted to.”

“Well, I’ll never say no to that. It’s nice seeing you like this.”

“It’s nice feeling like this.”

And that’s how Quinn and I spend the next hour outside, talking about nothing important. We discuss our pasts, mine heavily edited and hers heart aching. Sharing cigarette after cigarette and contemplating the meaning of life. It’s nice to lose myself for a while; to let someone into my life, even if it’s still barely below surface.

“I had Miles over the other night.”

Her voice is quiet and almost unsure, like she doesn’t know how she feels. I blow out smoke from the side of my mouth and hand the cigarette to her, her fingers grasping it tightly.

“How do you feel about him?”

“I don’t know.”

The air feels warmer after her admission and she takes a quick drag, as if relieved she’d revealed a secret. Exhaling, she hands it back to me and crosses her arms, meeting my eyes in the dark. Her voice is serious and holds none of the light quality of her usual banter.

“How do you feel about Finn?”

I roll the cigarette between my two fingers and stare at the ground as I contemplate her question. My mind offers nothing in response and all I can think about is how my heart races at his name. But I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad speed.

“I don’t know.”

As I whisper the sentiment back to her, I take a final drag on the cigarette and stub it out. Neither of us reaches for a new one and we just sit there, looking up at the stars and thinking to ourselves. When we both decide to go back in and go to sleep, I hear Quinn’s question again in my head and don’t know what to do with myself.

~.~.~.~.~

I wake up in the hallway and quickly get to my feet; confused as to how I got here. I walk into the dining room and look out the window at the slowly falling snow; curious as to why it’s snowing so early in the year. A loud clang startles me and I spin around to see Liam eating something. I ask him what’s going on, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. He just continues to eat his dinner, bite after slow bite; chewing and chewing with a blank look on his face. I repeat the question but he continues to ignore me, so I begin to scream at him; saying anything that comes to mind. I wave my hands around to try and get his attention, but he just eats. I’m gasping for breath and pause for a moment; placing a hand on my chest and closing my eyes. When I open them, I realize my arms are healed. I look between them in wonder and start to prod the flesh just to make sure. I rub both hands over my face and smile when nothing hurts.

Feeling light, I look back to Liam to exclaim my surprise when I follow his arms moving down to cut into his dinner. There’s a human heart on the gold plate that he cuts into with golden utensils; a steady beat that starts to echo in the large room. I rear back and bump into the back wall and my mouth drops open in horror. I feel tears start to track down my cheeks as he methodically cuts into the beating and bloody organ. I follow his fork and he bites down on the meat; teeth and mouth stained red. I scramble away from the table and trip over something as I rush into the kitchen.

Pushing myself up to my elbows, I let out a strangled sob as Finn lays on the linoleum; his chest ripped open and jaw slack. Body wracked with cries, I reach out a shaking hand to touch his face. When my fingers graze his cheek, he jolts up and stares at me unblinkingly; hand quickly grabbing my wrist in a tight grip. I begin to try and shake him off, pleading for him to let me go while simultaneously trying to use my other hand to pry his fingers up. I continue to sob as I look up at the clatter of metal falling on metal. Liam puts his hands on the table’s edge and scoots his chair out, the wood scraping against the floor in a loud shriek. I double my efforts to get away from Finn, but he shoots his other hand out and takes hold of my other arm, pinning them to my sides. Pushing me to the ground, he looms over me; blood dripping all over my clothes and face and I begin to kick as hard as possible to get away.

A sharp pressure stills my legs and I cry out in pain as Liam grinds his hard soled boots into my shins. Finn lets go of my arms, but they’ve become paralyzed next to me and I can’t move my body. He gets up to his knees and looks over me with dead eyes. I continue to beg him to let me go; my voice getting higher and faster when Liam moves away and leans down to remove his shoes. My legs won’t move and I begin to wiggle my body to try and roll away from them. My words are choked when Finn wraps his hands around my neck; slowly squeezing harder until it feels like it’ll snap. My hands suddenly find life and I lift them; hitting Finn on the shoulders and chest; clawing his face with my nails and trying to remove his hands.

He frowns and tightens his grip, blood dripping from the cuts on his face into his pursed lips. His thumbs push deeply against my trachea and I try harder to get him away, but my vision becomes spotty and I feel lightheaded. Another set of hands position themselves on my chest, one on top of the other, right over my heart. I continue to choke and watch as Liam pushes into my ribcage. I smack his arm and he snaps his head up, looking at me with black eyes and a bloody grin. His smile widens as he cracks the bones inward and reaches deep inside me. My body explodes in pain and I begin to kick my legs over and over, trying to get away from the excruciating agony they’re inflicting on me.

Liam rips my heart from my chest and squeezes it, warm blood spurting from it and onto me; mingling with Finn’s on my face and dripping into my gaping mouth. I begin to spasm from the lack of oxygen to my brain and can feel my limbs go cold. Finn moves my head and I have to watch as Liam holds my heart in two hands and takes a large bite from it; tendons and veins snapping when he pulls the piece into his mouth. He smiles as he chews, spewing pieces all over me. My body shutters in sobs and I wish I could die already, begging for Finn to just snap my neck.

He moves my head straight and I look up at his expressionless face; eyes empty of anything like humanity. I grab his forearms and try to shake him off; the movement casting wave upon wave of pain inside me. His eyebrows furrow and he applies more pressure as I continue to struggle. Just as I’m about to try and rasp out his name, he twitches a thumb and forefinger and snaps my neck up; Liam petting Finn’s head and licking blood from his lips the last thing I see.

I wake up with a scream, scrambling from my bed, almost tripping over my comforter, to press against the far wall. A knock sounds at my door and I jump, hitting my head against the floating shelf above me. The pictures there rattle and one falls; hitting the side table and glass breaking and flying all over the floor. It’s a picture of Liam and me on our first date, he having asked the waiter to take it after dessert and two glasses of wine. We look so happy and full of life, but all I see is Liam killing me and Finn helping.

I push myself away from the wall and have to steady myself on the table in order to pick up the picture. Glass slices across my palm and I gasp in pain as I make my way quickly to the door. The knocking has gotten louder and I fling it open to a worried looking Quinn in a silky black robe. Her eyes travel my body and I try to get my breathing under control.

“Jesus Christ Rae, what happened? Are you alright? Why is your hand bleeding? Did someone come into your room?”

“No, I had a nightmare. Broke a frame. Cut my hand.”

I rasp out my reply and look down at the red that is slowly pooling in my cupped left hand. I lift it higher and quickly walk to the bathroom; almost falling over and heart still pounding. I slam into the counter and fling open the medicine cabinet; scattering everything as my cast knocks items over while I search madly for the bandages and antiseptic. Things fall to the counter and something rolls and launches to the floor; throwing powder over my leg. Finding nothing in the cabinet, I kneel down to search through the drawers. Ignoring the pain of glass being pushed deeper into my skin, I use both hands to rummage through everything manically, blood smearing over the contents. The pain travels up through my fingers and hand and arm; my nerve endings throbbing at the feeling.

Without finding anything, I plop down on my bottom for better access to the lowest drawer, and wince as I accidentally sit halfway on my foot. I begin to fumble through the neat order I leave everything in almost mindlessly; forgetting for a moment what I’m supposed to be looking for.

“Rae, Jesus Christ, slow down. Let me help you. Good lord, it’s like a warzone in here. What are you looking for?”

“I need to clean it.”

I ignore Quinn next to me and begin to throw things from the drawers; all of it covered in darkening blood. Not finding what I need on the left set, I scoot over and do the same with the right; flinging useless items away from me as blood runs down my arm and gets all over the wood.

“Rae, you need to calm down and clean your hand. You’re making a mess.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m doing!”

I stop for a minute and look behind me to Quinn’s surprised expression. We stare at each other for a minute before I feel the viscous liquid pool into the dip of my elbow and run off the edges. It begins to drip onto the tile and I stand up, my left foot tingling as it had fallen asleep from my weight. I turn the faucet on fully and let hot water rinse the blood from my arm and hand; wincing as it scalds the deep cuts beneath my fingers.

“Fuck, Rae, please let me help.”

“Okay. Check your bathroom please.”

I hear Quinn leave at my calm request and watch as the blood continues to flow from my hand and mingle with the hot water. My skin has become a bright pink, but I don’t feel the pain that should be there. There’s a rattle to my right and I look back to Quinn, who has bandages and a brown and white bottle bundled in her arms. She drops them on the counter and turns off the water. Taking my left hand from the sink, she inspects the cuts as they begin to well up bright red again.

“This is really deep, Rae. I think we should go to the hospital.”

“No. I just have to take the glass out and treat it. There should be tweezers in the top right drawer.”

“But-”

“Please, just get them. It’s late and we have to be out of here in three hours.”

“That’s hardly more important than this, Rae. You’re really hurt! And seeing as how this is your only useable hand right now, we don’t want it to get infected or something. Let me take you to a doctor.”

“No, Quinn. Thank you, but this will be fine. Just help me with the glass. I’ll get by.”

“This need stitches. Look at it! It won’t stop bleeding, Rae.”

“It’ll be fine. Please help me now, or you can get out.”

Quinn stares at me in something like anger and exasperation, but I just hold my expression steady. I’ve had worse.

“Fine. But if it continues to be a problem, I am taking you. Whether you like it or not. Understood?”

“Okay.”

I make a mental note to distract her enough for her to forget. There’s no way she’ll be forgetting this little episode, but I can try to redirect her attention from my small injury until all she really remembers is a few cuts on my hand. I’ve grown into a great manipulator; so much so that I could probably convince her it was her fault. And she would believe me.

Not that I would do that.

Quinn gets the tweezers and quickly pulls the five pieces of glass from my flesh before the cut start to bleed again. We have to stop every couple seconds to rinse the area clean, but she has the bloody shards in a small pile next to the sink within a minute. While her attention is on getting my dressings ready, I look down at my hand and squeeze it into a tight fist. The pain is sharp and exhilarating as I follow the steady drip of blood when it falls into the white basin and splatters against the porcelain. I wipe my hand on the edge of the sink, biting my lip as the drag against my raw skin spreads the cuts open wider. The thick brushstroke I left makes me smile and I quickly rinse it away before Quinn turns back to me. She pours a steady stream of liquid on my hand that stings horribly and turns my hand yellow. She then pinches my skin together and picks the roll of white bandage up, wrapping my hand tightly.

We don’t talk much, and when she’s done, I begin to collect all of the ruined bottles and packages. Quinn tells me to stop and that she’ll do it, but the thought of someone else cleaning my blood off of my floor repulses me. I assure her I can do it, but she makes me let her help by getting a trash bag and a roll of towels to clean up. She stands at the entrance as I toss everything into the plastic, staining the sides of the bag red as the items rub against it. I rip long trains of paper towel and wipe up drying blood from the floor with my right hand, awkwardly propping myself up on my knees. Quinn gets the cleaner from under the sink and sprays everything as I stand, taking the towels from me to wipe it up.

I tie the bag shut when the bathroom smells strongly of bleach, and Quinn accompanies me down the stairs to toss the trash in the bin outside. It’ll be collected on Monday and Liam won’t have to know what happened. When everything is locked up again, we head upstairs and Quinn gives me a fierce hug before telling me to sleep well.

With her in the guest room, I slowly clean up the broken frame and its pieces, making sure most of the glass is in the bin next to the toilet. Reminding myself to vacuum up the rest tomorrow morning, I sit on the edge of our bed and stare at the picture from years ago, my heart aching in a longing for that feeling again.

I set the picture on the end table and face it toward the wall before slowly get ready for the day, knowing I won’t be able to get back to sleep.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Do you maybe want to go for something after all?”

Finn’s quirked eyebrows don’t faze me, and I think that maybe time alone with Quinn has either made me more fearless or more comfortable. Or maybe they’re mutually exclusive in this case. Whichever it is, I’m sure Liam won’t like it. And even though Finn looks amiable enough, I detect a hint of wariness about him.

“Never mind, you’re probably really busy-”

“That sounds great, actually. What did you have in mind?”

“Uhm.”

Not having thought that far, I grasp at different ideas as the upbeat rhythm of Give ‘Em Hell Kid gets stuck on repeat in my brain. It does nothing to help and I start to push against the palm of my hand with my right thumb hard, hoping it’ll focus my thoughts.

“What about-”

“How does-”

We blink at each other before Finn smiles a little and gestures to me.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“Uh, okay. Well, I was just going to say my coffee shop. Dispel the bad vibes.”

“Your coffee shop? You mean Leon’s?”

His confusion fuels mine and I squint at him.

“Who’s Leon?”

Finn laughs a little and rubs his tired looking eyes. I wait patiently for him to respond and take in the details of his face I’d failed to notice. There are slight lines next his eyes and mouth, which makes me want to smile at his apparent happiness over the years. His hair is a darker brown than I first thought and he has a warmer tan. For the first time, he looks like the young adult he’s supposed to be; not the memory of a teenage boy I’ve been clinging to. I feel very grown up right now.

“Leon’s is the place where you somehow met that old guy. Squishy chairs; dark wood tables; a girl who scowls a lot behind the counter.”

“Huh. Not the name I would have gone with. Too Marxist for me.”

Finn laughs outright at this and nods before lifting thick cables into a white van.

“Yeah, that sounds on. When?”

I bite my lip and try to figure out how best to set this up. Liam will be home tonight, but I’m not sure when. It’s safe to say he wouldn’t book his trip late in the day; he doesn’t really like traveling at night. It’ll have to be some time in the week. Before work so I can be home on time for dinner.

“What about tomorrow before work?”

Finn hefts a large box next to the cables and looks at me on a strained breath, his eyebrows raised.

“Monday morning? That doesn’t really… Okay, sure I guess.”

“Sorry, but I can’t exactly take the time after work. I have to get home to make dinner and all that.”

“Dinner? Since when do you make dinner?”

Starting to feel annoyed, I look away from him and begin to aggravate my hand once more. I watch some of our coworkers weave in between the crowds here and there; their black outfits turning them into shadows. Grant stands at the base of the second stage on his mobile, frowning into his conversation as he plugs his other ear to block out the loud music of… I think Craig Nicholls belting out his lyrics. Without looking away, I answer Finn’s question.

“I can cook. I cook well. You just haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve never seen you go to the lengths to cook an entire meal, Rae. It’s not that I’ve never noticed.”

“Well, I can. Do you want to get coffee or not?”

He raises his eyebrows at my sharp tone and nods slowly, folding his arms over his chest. I know this look and I have to think of a way to get out of any further discussion.

“Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow at six-”

“Wait, hold on a minute. Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been a dick to you. I honestly don’t mean to, and I’ve apologized for it. I understand if someone has a bad day, but it’s like day and night with you all the time, Rae. Now, I’m not sure what I’ve said or done, but I think I deserve to know why you hate me one minute and tolerate me the next.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh that’s good to know. As long as you can bear with me, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not… Don’t put words in my mouth. Why do you think that? It’s not true.”

“It’s not? Then please, enlighten me as to how it isn’t true. Besides the time you had me over to your house, you’ve always been standoffish.”

I look around nervously, hoping no one heard him. It’s not exactly something I want everyone knowing. Especially if they happen to bump into Liam at the bank or at the supermarket and talk with him. Not that he’d ever be at the market though. Finn lets out a huff of breath, and I face him once again. He’s shaking his head and looks peeved, but I’m not sure why.

“You don’t want people knowing I was over. And you say you don’t hate me?”

“Stop it. I- It’s just- It’s complicated. I don’t hate you. I’m, um, trying to-”

“Oh, I get it. It’s not me, is it? It’s him. He’s the one you don’t want finding out, isn’t it? You think that if he hears we’ve been spending time together, he’ll leave you? Or that he’ll give me a good talking to? Don’t worry, Rae. I have no plans on meeting your boyfriend.”

My mouth hangs open before I let a startled laugh escape my lips. The thought of Liam leaving me is incredibly ludicrous. Why would someone leave a person they love? I would be lost if he left. And I doubt he’d give Finn a good talking to. He’d probably put me in my place with a small beating and maybe punch Finn a time or two. Assuming he’s completely sober. Finn just furrows his brows and drops his arms.

“Why is that funny?”

“You think Liam would just-”

I snap my mouth shut and quickly rein in the words threatening to flow out. I shake my head and let out a nervous laugh.

“Never mind, it’s nothing. I don’t hate you or tolerate you. It’s weird; you being here. And I’m not sure what…  You’re expecting from me.”

Finn sighs and rubs his eyes again as I dig my thumb nail into the smallest cut next to my forefinger.

“I don’t expect anything, Rae. I’m just confused. It’s been such a long time-”

“Can we talk about this later? I have work to do, and I don’t want Sue seeing us standing around.”

Not to mention the way I just caught Quinn and Grant staring at us. This has the makings of a very uncomfortable situation.

“Fine, okay. Tomorrow morning at six. See you then.”

And he turns and walks away. I watch him retreat behind the stage and sigh, looking down at my hand. The cuts have bled through the bandage and I make my way to the outdoor lockers for the wrap and cream in my bag.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I unlock the door with a laugh as Quinn finishes telling me about how she mistook Isaac Brock as a creeper, and made sure to stay with someone else while he was near her. It was only after she watched their set that she realized, but it had been too late. She wasn’t able to see him again to introduce herself.

We both escape the chill of the late hour and begin to remove all of our outerwear after I turn on the overhead.

“Do you know when we start tomorrow?”

“Seven thirty, I think. But it may be a good idea to leave around six, so we don’t have to stay super late. Pretty sure all of us will be exhausted.”

“Yeah, I was planning on the same thing. I want to grab a coffee before work. And, as you know, I’m-”

“Rae?”

Both Quinn and I let out surprised yelps and I shove her behind me. One of my gloves is still half on my hand, and her jacket is caught by her elbows uncomfortably. A figure walks toward us from the living room; the darkened hallway giving us no indication as to whom it could be. My heart starts to beat faster and I grab Quinn’s arm tighter as the man reaches the edge of the light. Sighing in relief and letting go of Quinn, I clear my throat and yank off the glove with my teeth.

“Liam, you scared us. Why aren’t there any lights on?”

He shrugs and moves in closer with an empty tumbler in his hand. I look at him warily and slowly hang my scarf over my coat. The faint buzz of a television echoes quietly from the living room and the three of us fall into an awkward silence. He clears his throat, and I jump to attention.

“Right, sorry. Quinn, it’s been a long time, but you remember Liam, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely! Hope you had a good trip. Rae was a great host this weekend.”

Liam gives her a perfect smile with a hint of teeth and nice, upturned lips. My heart swells in my chest at the sight, and I smile a little dopily.

“I’m glad. I’m sure you two had a better weekend than I did. I look forward to hearing about it tomorrow.”

“Cool! We both met some pretty great bands, so there are a few stories to keep you occupied.”

Quinn laughs but doesn’t notice Liam’s slightly narrowed eyes. I shoot her a look and wish she hadn’t said anything.

“That’s wonderful. You’ll have memories that last forever.”

He shifts his attention to me and catches my eye in an intense stare, tone still pleasant.

“Rae, what happened to the picture of you and me upstairs? When I went into the bedroom earlier, it was broken.”

I take a deep breath and quickly shift through my mental carousel of bland explanations, making sure to pick one that puts me entirely at fault. Even though it already was, I need to make sure he believes it.

“I was changing the sheets on our bed, and accidentally flicked the comforter too hard. It caught the corner of the frame and dropped it.”

“And you didn’t decide to get a new one?”

“No, of course I did. We just haven’t had time to do anything other than work. I was already planning on getting a new one tomorrow after I’m done for the day.”

“I could go, but you know how busy I’ll be at the bank tomorrow. It won’t run itself.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it tomorrow, I promise.”

Liam just nods with the same happy expression and engages Quinn in a quick conversation about the weekend’s events. I let out a silent breath of relief at his easy acceptance and try my hardest to ignore the confused look Quinn had sent me. I send strong mental vibes to her, begging her to keep her mouth shut about this morning. Liam doesn’t need to know the specifics.

“Well, what have you been eating? When I came home, there was nothing chilling in the fridge.”

I catch the tail end of Liam’s sentence, and jump in before Quinn can reply.

“Oh, well, our days were so long, they just fed us at the festival. I didn’t prepare anything this weekend.”

“And you didn’t think to make something on Friday before your busy weekend?”

I laugh a little and Liam smiles again, proving to Quinn that we’re a normal couple talking about what normal couples talk about. I can sense his disappointment though, and it makes me sag with regret.

“No, I just lost track of time on Friday.”

My body is enveloped in a cold sweat at the thought of Liam finding out exactly what I was busy with on Friday. I look at him with as genuine an expression as I can, hoping he hasn’t somehow developed the power to read minds and glean who had come over. If I don’t think his name, Liam won’t be able to catch on. He won’t know. He just won’t; there’s no possible way he could find out about my visitor. I look at Quinn with a smile, trying to tell her how important it is that she say absolutely nothing about Friday.

“That’s a shame. Well, it’s a good thing I was able to rustle up my own meal. I was afraid I’d not make something as good as you.”

He laughs and we follow, Quinn nodding in agreement.

“Rae is a master in the kitchen. I brought some biscuits as a gift for having me, but I’m afraid they pale in comparison to what Rae has whipped up in the past.”

“Yes, I noticed the fresh boxes. Can’t say they’re my favorite, but I know how much Rae likes them.”

“Well, since it’s so late, I think we should get to bed. I know how early everyone has to work tomorrow.”

I jump into their exchange quickly, trying to stem the slight resentment I see filling Liam’s body language at Quinn’s words. She responds in kind, and we make our way to the steps.

“Rae, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Liam’s request hits me hard and I slowly turn around on the landing, smiling as he stands there.

“Of course! Quinn, I recommend taking a shower so you don’t have to in the morning.”

I meet her gaze quickly with a smile and she raises an eyebrow before nodding slowly.

“Alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow morning. It was nice seeing you again, Liam. Sleep well.”

We both nod as she continues up the stairs. I stay on the landing, grasping the newel tightly with my cut hand. Liam doesn’t say anything until the guest bedroom door closes, and the air becomes weighed down with something dark. As soon as all is still upstairs, Liam looks at me and his smile falls.

“I stayed up waiting for you for two hours. Why are you home so late?”

“Liam, this weekend was really busy. There was no way I could leave any earlier than we did. Plus, Quinn was my ride, so we had to wait-”

“I don’t want your excuses, Rae. I just want you to know that I don’t appreciate being left in the dark when it comes to your arrival back home. It’s not what a person does to their boyfriend.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I should have left a message for you. Or a note. It won’t happen again.”

Liam nods and lifts the glass into his vision, sighing when he notices it’s empty. For the first time since being home, I notice the slight bleariness of his eyes and the sway of his body.

“Liam, have you been drinking?”

“Well, what did you expect?”

His response is harsh and cuts through me like a hot knife. His promise rings in my mind, but the scene slowly cracks and breaks into tiny pieces; replicating that of our photo. I hold my breath and blink the tears from my eyes so he can’t see.

“Why?”

“This weekend has been hell without you. My parents drove me spare, so of course I needed something to help me deal with them. And then I come home and have no idea where you are, so I needed something to help calm me down. It’s not like I’ve gone through an entire bottle, Rae. Do you really not have any faith in me?”

“That’s not it at all, Liam. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Go to bed, I’ll be up later.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns his back to me and walks into the kitchen. I watch as he pulls one of the long bottles from the top cupboard and splashes three fingers worth of whiskey into his glass. I hold the wood tighter as tears sting my eyes and have to look away once he finishes it in one swig. I continue up the stairs slowly and hear more liquid fill the cup.

When I make it to the top landing, Quinn opens the second bathroom door; covered in that black robe and her short hair wrapped in a small towel. She rubs lotion onto her skin and smiles a little, her face free from makeup. The heady scent of her woodsy lotion fills my senses and calms me in a way I didn’t know could happen. I guess people who use aromatherapy know what they’re talking about.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, he just wanted to know the basics of the weekend and what the plan is for tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Is he not going to bed soon?”

“No, he has some more work he needs to get done before going in tomorrow, and he’d rather do it at the table than disturb me as I try to sleep.”

The lies roll off my tongue so easily. It didn’t take me any time to come up with them, either. I just knew what had to be said to make Quinn believe me. And judging by her occupied expression, she has already moved on.

“Cool. Well, I guess I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Sleep well, girlie.”

I just nod and continue down the hallway to my room, shutting the already open door quietly. Liam’s things are in a small pile by the closet, dirty clothes waiting to be put in the hamper. I sigh and step out of my shoes, carrying them to the closet and putting them away before I deal with his laundry. I stay up for another hour and watch the door, unable to fall asleep and waiting for him to come in. He never does and I finally shut my eyes.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It’s chilly again when Quinn and I leave for work. The house had been silent as we got ready, meaning Liam went to the bank around five. He didn’t come up to the room once.

“I’m really going to miss all the open parking you guys have here. It’s such a struggle trying to find any near my flat.”

“The benefit of the suburbs, I guess.”

I respond with a laugh, not really feeling that jovial. She unlocks my door and sticks a cigarette between her lips, lighting it with one hand as she walks around to the driver’s side. When we get settled and she has the heat on full blast, Quinn opens her window and blows smoke into the cold air. She grips the steering wheel and clears her throat before looking at me. I raise my eyebrows and wait for her to come out with it. Rolling her eyes, Quinn takes a quick drag and begins to talk through the cloud of smoke.

“I’m dropping you off at the coffee shop, right?”

Having no choice but to tell her about my meeting with Finn, I nod once and look out to the empty street. Quinn is the only person fully aware of what is going on between him and me, and it’s a struggle to accept that. No one has been privy to my personal life in a long time. I almost feel annoyed at it.

“Yes, please.”

“Right-o then.”

We take the quick route to Leon’s, listening to chill fm the whole way. It’s always a comfortable silence with her, and I never feel the need to fill empty space with empty words. She’s stopped in front of the cafe before the second song finishes, and I take a deep breath before pulling my canvas bag over my shoulder. Looking at Quinn, she gives me a small smile of encouragement and nods her head to the door.

“Off you go, then.”

“Right. Off I go.”

I pull the handle and step outside before I can lose my nerve. When the door is shut behind me, Quinn zooms off. I scowl at her obvious attempt at abandonment and turn to the bustling bistro. The bells chime as I open the glass door and I search the room for Finn, hoping he hasn’t arrived yet. Spotting him next to the window, I furrow my brow at the second mug sitting in front of him, steam slowly rising from the hot liquid. He’d ordered for me?

I’m standing in front of him without realizing I’d moved, and he makes a hum of welcome as he swallows his coffee and sets down the cup. I smile quickly and then sit down across from him; a strange sense of déjà vu settling over me. It’s the same chair and table set where we first had that horrible row. My cheeks heat just thinking about it.

“Morning.”

“Hiya.”

“I got you a coffee.”

“I see that. Thank you.”

It’s quiet again. An awkward air settles around us, and I gingerly lift the mug to my lips, trying hard not to let the porcelain handle dig into my wound. Finn makes a surprised noise and sets down his drink.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, that. I cut it when I was picking up a broken picture frame. It looks worse than it is.”

Except it isn’t. I woke up this morning with blood staining the sheets and my pajamas where my hand had been resting; the cut having opened in the middle of the night. I threw the sheets and clothes away and quickly wrapped the cut so Quinn wouldn’t notice.

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

“So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”

I think for a moment, half wanting to finish our conversation from Friday, but also not wanting to ever visit the topic again. The desires wage war in my mind, and I’m stuck not saying anything. Finn raises his eyebrows and I shrug.

“Well, I guess, why don’t you tell me how you like London?”

I stare at him for a moment.

“This is so weird.”

He laughs a little into his mug.

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s not like we know a whole lot about what the other’s been doing. Or anything, in fact. I know nothing about your life anymore.”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head at my quiet reply and puts his coffee cup down.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I just meant… I’m just interested in what you’ve been doing.”

His eyes bore into mine, and I’m once again struck by how fierce his gaze is. It makes me want to spill everything right then and there; tell him about all the horrible things that have happened to me; ask for his help to get away from it all. The urge burns its way through my mind and into my mouth, forcing me to open it.

“Actually, things aren’t-”

“Rae?”

My whole body freezes and a shiver slowly travels down my spine, taking all color from my face with it. Heart beating fast, I slowly turn toward the front of the shop. Liam is standing there, paper travel cup in his hand as he waits beside an old man fixing his drink with milk and sugar. Focusing back on my boyfriend, I see his eyes slowly skim over Finn and his mouth turns downward in a deep frown. My mouth gapes open in response.

“I- What are you- When- Ha, wow, how odd to see you here.”

“Excuse me?”

I swallow hard, but the coffee has soaked up all moisture in my mouth and I have to cough around the cotton.

“I mean, you know, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just surprised. Pleasantly surprised.”

I add the last quickly, seeing his expression darken. We stare at each other and I’m startled by Finn clearing his throat. I watch as he stands and sticks out his hand to Liam.

“Hi, I’m Finn.”

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Anonymous asked:

hate to bother ya, but will you continue writing the fall or are you starting over? really miss reading your stories

This is so odd. I asked myself the exact fucking thing yesterday. And the answer is, I am continuing with Fall, and all of the half finished stories and ideas floating around in my head.I've been dealing with a lot recently. Most of it is good, and I haven't been this happy in a long time. There are times, though, where that heavy cloud breaks past the lightness of my mind and makes everything dark. Only for a little while, but sometimes it's hard to think of anything else.It's been getting better though.And aside from my mental state, I am working two jobs, soon to be three, and that, paired with school, leaves almost no time to write.But, I'll let you in on a secret: I wrote yesterday. God, you have no idea how amazing it felt. My pen moved over the page as of it were racing toward something. My mind wandered through this world I was creating, and I was consumed with the need to keep writing in order to see what would happen next. I felt as if I was floating and stuck all at once.There are people in my life that give me inspiration. There are songs. There are dreams. There are memories. Everything that comes into my head has the opportunity to influence my writing. I've just been ignoring it for a while in order to focus on other things. But I'm not doing that anymore.In short, yes, I am writing.

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Anonymous asked:

It's nice to see your writing again... hope all is well

Thank you, anon. I love you.

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Hi! I’m alive and quite well. Work and school and a certain person have all been keeping me busy; so I haven’t had much time to write. But I wrote this quick rewrite for the beginning of Fall from Finn’s pov just now. It’s going to be titled Shade of a Shadow, and will have ten chapters. I do believe I’ll be getting some work out soon. I feel inspired all of a sudden.

Enjoy.

~.~.~.~.~

Finn held in his yawn as Robert droned on about something not related to the meeting, again. His boss may only be in his fifties, but he acted as batty as a man close to the end. But never a man close to the end of his point, unfortunately. “Robert, if I may interrupt. What does the layout of the magazine have anything to do with its substance? That’s what’s most important.”

Janet; one of the head writers. A slim woman with greying blonde hair and a light complexion. Carried around a dour expression most of the time. The type of person who wore suits even on casual Friday. She had a hair up her ass because of all the change happening. She just couldn’t understand that, as times change, so do interests of the masses. The only way to stay popular is to stay current. To be the kind of edgy that’s a bit tongue-in-cheek; a bit ‘fuck you’ to the mainstream junkies of the world. A publication that had its own voice. Something real.

"We need to present the content to readers in a pleasant manner. They’ll be more likely to read an article if it attracts their attention."

Finn rolled his eyes. Bernie; one of the dullest men Finn had ever met. Tall and shapely; he bore a striking resemblance to Jeremy Irons, only sadder and more tired. He was in charge of the graphics and layout of the magazine, which was a joke. Had a stick up his ass that’d been there for a while. Boring ideas. Not too impressive.

"It’s not just about being pleasing to the eye. We have to hook the reader with a fresh and interesting point of view. They’ll be more interested in the article if it feels like someone is being real with them."

Janet pursed her lips and crossed both arms across the navy blue blazer fastened neatly and free of wrinkles. “What does that even mean, Finn?”

Finn sighed and rubbed his eyes; giving himself a few seconds to calm down. “Janet, would you rather read something that’s exciting and real, or something that lets your mind wander as you lose interest in the story? We have to reach a new audience. We need to be less serious and a little more down to earth.”

Janet huffed a breath before shaking her head, “We give the readers excellent material. I don’t understand why that would have to change.”

Finn clenched his fists. “We can still give them good content and be alluring. Right now, it’s like we’re the kid in class giving a boring presentation on something that is anything but.”

When Finn’s voice started to rise, Robert put his hand flat on the table, and calmly said, “Enough.” Both Finn and Janet looked at him, one contrite; one surly. Finn felt a little embarrassed about getting so riled up, but damn that woman.

"Finn and Bernie have a good point, Janet. We’ve been in circulation a while; we need to spruce things up a bit." Finn watched as the spry fifty-something year old promptly did a quick arm stretch before gathering his notes. The meeting was over, apparently.

As the three of them followed suit, Janet began to mumble under her breath in a sharp tone. The three men resolutely did not rise to her baiting, and everyone filed out of the small boardroom.

When they all reached their assigned sections of the building, Finn plopped down on his rolling chair and let out a loud groan. A snort sounded to his right, and Finn cracked open one eye to see Suzanne’s amused expression. He raised an eyebrow before shutting both eyes again and ignoring her quiet laughter.

I really need to find a new job.

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Do you guys hate me yet? Sorry I've been MIA, lots of things have been going on in my life right now (good and bad). At the moment, Fall will be on indefinite hiatus. I have the idea, I have the time frame, and I have the outline, but my motivation for it is at an all time low right now. Do not worry; I will finish the entire story. I promise. Just not as soon as I had originally wanted. The story requires a lot from me, and it can be draining; getting into the mindset I need to write it. Rae is my warrior, but she is not doing well at the moment, which means I have to find it within myself to bear her despair. I'm trying though, for all of you incredibly wonderful people, so please just be patient. You won't be disappointed. On another note, I have two wonderful stories coming out soon. The mobster!finn little ficlet has turned into a full-blown story that I get giddy about every time I get to write it. It's something very new for me, so be excited. The second one is a surprise, and it's a format I've never used before. I have a copy saved in my drafts, my email drafts, my phone notes, and on word, just so I can add to it whenever inspiration hits, which is all the time. I think you guys will like it. I love you all very much, and I wanted to thank everyone again for being so amazing. I never thought my stories would reach so many people. - Audrey

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itsmirallegro were you the lovely lady who talked about mobster Finn to an ask? Are you reading my mind, hm? Because I’ve also been thinking about that.

~.~.~.~.~

Finn shut his eyes and heaved a great breath. The three of them had been here almost an hour, and absolutely fuck all was happening. Chop was beating a loose piece of road against the curb, and Finn got lost in the repetitive beat. It echoed in his mind until all he could do was listen and stare at nothing.

"Finn. Jesus Christ, mate. Snap out of it." Finn blinked away the unfocused image of buildings as the sound cut out almost violently from his head. He looked at Chop’s wrinkled, slightly dirty suit and smiled.

"Right, sorry. Just zoned out."

"Alright, well your dad called. We’re done."

Finn blinked once more in confusion and set his mouth in an annoyed moue, “We’ve been here hours. What happened?”

"I dunno, mate. I’m sure we’ll see soon enough, eh?" Chop shrugged into his leather jacket and flipped the collar up, against the biting cold wind that would sting their skin as soon as they left the glass enclosure. Finn sighed and wrapped his scarf; twisting into the action as he looked for Archie behind him. The brunette was slouched in a hard, plastic lawn chair, his face propped up uncomfortably on his hand. Finn could almost picture the sore pain his friend would feel, and stepped forward to wake him.

"Arch, get up, mate. We’re finished up here."

The other man jolted to action as Finn shook his limp shoulder. “Wha say?” Finn laughed loudly and repeated himself before moving toward the exit. Chop stood next to the door, leaning back against the unforgiving bricks and smoking a cigarette. He chuckled when Finn looked over and gestured it to him.

"Warms you from the inside out, eh?"

Finn laughed under his breath and unlocked the Jag, scooting in and shutting the door quickly. He turned the heat on full blast and rubbed his hands together as he waited for his friends. If his father had indeed gotten what he wanted; it was going to be quite the long night.

~.~.~.~.~.~ Finn flinched at the sound of another punch reverberating around the small, concrete room. Fist hitting flesh over and over, the blood from the man’s face adding a slick sort of smacking quality. He looked away as the cowering, pathetic little man coughed loudly and began to cry harder. Finn’s father rose his hand up in the air and Karlof let the man drop, falling to his knees and curling into the fetal position.

"Thank you, Karlof. Let’s give him some time to think about it. I’d like a moment alone with my son."

The lackey just nodded and walked out the door without his victim. Finn looked at his father in confusion, and the older man sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed them before focusing on Finn with his sharp gaze.

"You are uncomfortable."

Finn let out a surprised grunt and blinked, “What are you talking about?”

"Son, don’t try to deny it. I watch you flinch and look away and rush for the exit. Why does it bother you so much?"

Finn gaped at his dad and let the tortured sound of a weeping, bloody, half-dead man fill the empty space between them. His father sighed again and placed his big hands on Finn’s shoulders; the heavy weight of them digging into Finn’s flesh.

"I’m expecting you to be ready for this soon. What I do. What you’re supposed to do. How everyone else does their job. You have to know what to do when the time comes." Finn’s body flooded with shame and he looked away from the tired man in front of him. "I understand."

"Good. Now," his father grasped his shoulders painfully before letting go, "suck it up and act as if you actually want to run this outfit."

Finn just nodded and waited for his father to clear his throat, signalling for his son to leave. Finn zoomed out of there and breathed deeply in the corridor; fresh air from an open warehouse filling his lungs. He wanted to close his eyes and enjoy it, but knew that Carlos’ beating would be playing on the insides of his eyelids for a while. If the fucking moron had just kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t have to be beaten within an inch of his life. And, in all honesty, probably tortured until they finally got the truth out of him. The only thing to do after that was kill him. His father was always a fan of brute force doing the job.

As the screams started up again; Finn shook off the filth of the room that clung to him and blackened his heart. He began playing the song Chop’s stone had created earlier that day on repeat in his head. He started humming it loudly to drown out what was, most likely, Karlof breaking the fingers of a person Finn would miss.

As he flung open the metal door, he welcomed the wind that blew harshly against his ears. It drowned out everything until all he heard was the rapid beating of his heart and Chop’s song as he tried not to think of the way they’d kill his friend of ten years.

He hated his fucking life.

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Anonymous asked:

Fall part 6? :)

Tomorrow or Monday. Honestly. Tuesday at the latest.I plan on having Finn's Fall out some time in January, so I'm going to ~try~ and get through Fall by then.Ooh, or I'll make it my birthday gift to myself to have it done. That seems more realistic.

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