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poeghoul · 6 months

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hard times

in which harry is grumpy and mean and has a scary job

word count: 3,315 warnings: angst, semi-mafia!harry, a single mention of drugs, semi-gun violence, harassment. do not read if opposed to any of the topics mentioned. authors note: i haven’t written in years so this may be bad. inspired by "western nights" by ethel cain.

Harry met Niall at a small diner called The Vinyl booth at 9:37pm, an oddly specific time Niall gave to him, Harry thought. Niall had been interested in forming a connection with Harry, seeing as he’s the biggest drug supplier in all of northern California. Niall loved The Vinyl Booth; he loved taking his girls there every other Sunday after church. It was a warm, cozy diner, with checkered flooring and a jukebox that only worked if you kicked it in the right spot.

“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, excited to finally be meeting with him after hearing about him for so long. Harry gave him a curt nod as Niall put his hand out for him. Harry took his and grunted as Niall brought him in for a weird semi hug that men do. “Good to finally meet ya,” Niall smiled and held the door open for him, a little bell attached to the handle sounded. Harry walked in first as Niall followed behind and stood while they waited for someone to seat them.

“Niall? What are you doing here so late?” A girl approached the two men, smiling at Niall before grabbing two menus.

“Y/n!” Niall exclaimed, returning an even bigger smile than she had initially sent him, “just needed a little late night treat.”

“Of course you did, come on,” she led the two to a corner booth, “I’ll be back with some coffee.” She smiled at the two and Harry noticed she hadn’t greeted him or even made eye contact with him once, which infuriated him; he was used to everyone showing him the respect he swears he deserves.

She walked back with two small gray ceramic mugs in her hands before turning again to get the coffee pot (Harry assumed they hadn’t brewed a fresh batch in some hours, disgusting him even more than he already was with the sticky menu he was holding). She went to pour some into Nialls mug before Harry decided to speak up.

“When was that brewed?” Y/n looked up as she stopped pouring the coffee.

“Um,” she paused, trying to remember when she last even touched the pot, “maybe around 5,” she shrugged, phrasing it more as a question than a statement.

Harry scoffed, “and you expect us to be okay with drinking that?” he practically shouted at the girl; she was taken aback, furrowing her brows and cocking her head to the side. “Get him a new mug and brew a fresh batch, we’re not drinking coffee that’s been sitting out for nearly five hours.” he spat. Niall went to speak up and Harry shot him the deadliest glare the man had ever seen, effectively shutting Niall up.

“I’ll get on it,” she murmured as she bowed her head, picked up Nialls mug and spun on her heel, heading towards the sink to dump out the hour's old coffee.

“You didn’t have to shout at her, Harry,” Niall scolded the man like he was a four year old. Harry just looked at him and shook his head, going to speak up before deciding against it.

The bell on the door rang. It was one of his security guards; he had told both (one of them planning on coming in three before 10pm, the time they closed) to observe the interaction between the two men; one to scope out Niall, and two to make sure Harry made it out alive. With what Harry did, not making it out of the diner was an option. The burly man sat down in a booth facing Harry directly.

Y/n was at the coffee pot, pouring in new coffee grinds and pressing at the brewing options, though there couldn’t have been more than one option with how old the machine was. She looked up as the man sat down, a puzzled look taking over her features; Harry couldn’t stop staring.

Y/n approached him, “Hi,” she smiled at him, “I’m y/n I’ll be taking care of you today, can I start you off with some coffee? I’m brewing some right now so it’ll be the freshest coffee of your life,” she joked with him, purposefully being loud enough for Harry to hear; he just narrowed his eyes at her and, instead of gazing at her, he began glaring. The man just nodded. She gave a half smile before walking back to where the two men were sat, pulling out a small notepad and pen from her apron. “Oki doki, Niall I know what you want already,” she smiled at him, a dimple forming in her cheek. She looked at Harry, “how about you? Have enough time to look the menu over?” He hadn’t even opened it.

“No,” he said simply. Her smile faded, a puzzled look taking over her features.

“Oh, well, do you have any questions?” She tucked her pen and notepad into a small pocket on the black apron that was folded and tied around her waist.

“No,” he replied, a bitter tone, “I would like some fresh coffee though, if you’re capable,” he tried his hardest to contain his smirk.

If y/n didn’t care about her job, she’d bark at him. If y/n didn’t care about the owners and how close she had gotten to them, she would’ve taken her pen from her apron and jammed it in his hand with all her might. And if y/n had the guts to either of those, she would. She cares, though, far too much to do either of those; so instead, she smiled and prayed that her eye wouldn’t start twitching.

“Of course, sir,” she turned and rolled her eyes, mimicking him under her breath. Harry heard her, but didn’t say anything. She grabbed another mug and the coffee pot, almost burning her knuckles in the process. She placed Nialls mug before him and poured into his new one, making sure to leave room for creamer. “Room for cream?” She made eye contact with Harry. He shook his head, humming a ‘no’. She tried her best to fill it to where it would spill on him if he picked it up too quickly, and made her way to the only other patron in the small diner. The bell on the door rang again, but it wasn’t who Harry was expecting.

Y/n looked up at the character who walked into and watched as he walked past her and sat at the counter. Nobody ever came in this late, three of them looked scary and they were all men. She felt her heart skip some beats in the worst way. Thankfully, two of the cooks were here, but they were already upset with her for seating guests twenty something minutes before closing.

She walked behind the counter, setting the pot down on the heater, and walked to the man at the counter. She noticed his red ringed, dark brown eyes. “Hi, I’m y/n,” she started her script, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight, what can I get ya started with?” She grabbed her notepad and pen, again, hoping he knew what he wanted to eat so she’d have an excuse to go into the back, wanting to be with the men she’d known for some time, rather than three suspicious men and Niall (who, according to her, was far too gentle to hurt a fly).

He smiled at her; it made her stomach curl. “Orange juice, please, and a mixed cheese omelette.” She scribbled in her notepad, muttering a ‘got it’ before scrambling to the back to put the order in.

“So,” Niall began, causing Harry to finally look away from the door the girl had basically run through. “I know you didn’t agree to meeting me here for the chorizo and eggs plate,” he joked at Harry. He gave a curt nod. Niall cleared his throat. “I know you have a busy schedule, so I’ll get right to it,” the bell on the door sounded again. Three minutes before closing, right on time. His other bodyguard walked past the two and sat at another end of the counter. Y/n peaked her head through the swinging door, looking around before setting her eyes on the last patron to walk in. She sighed before walking out and giving him her whole spiel.

“Coffee, please,” the man smiled at her. She was grateful for someone, other than Niall, to show her some kindness in a non creepy way. She turned to grab another mug and the pot of coffee and made her way back to him.

“Long night?” she asked him while pouring into his mug. He nodded and smiled at her, offering her a thank you. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest.

Niall continued to speak to him, though Harry tuned him out, granting him responses in the form of grunts. He watched the girl bring out the orange juice for the boy at the counter before going into the back and returning with a bowl of prepackaged creamers. “Sorry, Niall, the creamers completely slipped my mind.”

“Not a big deal, y/n, I knew you’d get around to it,” he reached into the bowl, grabbing a package and ripping it open to pour into his coffee. He did that four more times, turning the near black brown to a light, almost white shade.

She looked at Harry, his eyes already on her, “finally decided?” he shook his head. She just stared, no emotion on her face.

“Just get him the same thing as me, please” Niall awkwardly cut in. Y/n’s gaze softened, looking at him and smiled, before nodding and walking off. Harry, still, couldn’t stop staring; watching how she walked and moved and how she reacted to every word said to her. He also noticed how the boy at the counter did the same. Niall continued to talk at him about a deal he was wishing to make. Something about expanding Harry’s territory and getting a small cut. From what Harry heard, it wasn’t a bad proposal.

+++

“Thanks, again, for meeting with me, Harry” Niall shook his hand, a beaming smile plastered on his face. Harry offered him a pursed smile in return. “Get home safe.” Harry nodded, watching as Niall turned to walk to his car.

Harry turned to his, getting in the backseat, greeted by his bodyguard, Daniel, who’d entered the restaurant earlier. They sat in silence as they waited for the final of the two men, Jax, to return to the car. Harry had sent him a message halfway through their meal, asking (more like demanding) him to stay in the diner until the skeptical character had left; he left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth and he just wanted to ensure the safety of the girl he was fascinated by.

He waited. And waited. Bit at his nails, ran his hands through his hair, groaned many times and waited even more.

Time seemed to go by so slowly. He stared into the window, watching the three of them closely. His left leg was bouncing up and down, an unfamiliar sense of anxiety coursing through him. Huffing through his nose, he ran his hand through his hair. He hated how he was feeling, and judging by her body language, she was feeling similarly.

Y/n stood with the coffee pot, having had to make another batch as the group of men continued to order more and more cups throughout the night, waiting for the two men to leave so she could crawl into bed. She had been here close to eleven hours now, and was growing anxious being practically trapped in a room with two strange men she had never seen, especially since the two cooks had left for the night (she was too scared to ask them to stay, not wanting to be a bother but she desperately regrets that now).

The bigger man of the two sat glaring at the smaller one, watching his every move. Y/n could tell he was growing uncomfortable with harsh eyes on him at all times; it made her feel safer, though.

The small one offered her a small smile, asking for the check silently. She felt a wave of relief to soon have him out of her hair. She couldn’t wait to leave; she had already wiped down all the tables, swept, asked the two men if they’d be paying cash or card, and when they both replied with card, she closed out the cash drawer on the register. She was eager, practically vibrating. Nothing planned for the night, she just couldn’t wait to step outside into the fresh air, feeling suffocated in the small space of the diner.

She handed the small receipt to him and he immediately offered her his card, making sure to graze her hand with his. She noted how cold and pale it was. A small ‘thank you’ before a pursed smile graced her features. She ran his card through the machine, printed a receipt and handed the two over. He smiled at her, leaving a ten on the counter before walking out.

Outside, Harry noted the movement inside the diner, watching the weird man walk out of the restaurant and around the corner to where, he assumed, was a back alley. Jax walked out shortly after, y/n walking to the door behind him to lock it before heading to the back, but he hesitated to leave, still. The lights shut off shortly after. He couldn’t make out much more.

The door opened and, though he could barely see her silhouette, he could tell she was locking the door behind her. She stood in front of the diner, typing away at her phone. He groaned at how oblivious she was to her surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a head peeking around a corner. He unlocked his door, prepared to jump to her defense at any given moment. The man who peeked around the corner fully emerged and walked up behind y/n, his hands in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He said something to her, Harry couldn’t hear what, and she practically jumped out of her skin. She turned around with wide eyes and slipped her phone in her back pocket.

“Oh,” she gasped, “hey, did you leave anything inside?”

He grinned at her, “no, actually was just wondering what you were up to after this.” she gulped.

“Um,” she tried to think of something, anything, to lie about, but blanked. “I’m just, uh, gonna hang out with my friends,” she rushed out. His grin turned into a smirk.

“You sure?” She nodded. His smirk vanished. “You’re lying.” she shook her head, a small ‘I’m not’ escaping her lips. “Yes, you are,” he stepped closer to her, “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” she backed up, her breathing picking up. He stepped even closer.

“Now you’re lying again,” he glared down at her, “must I teach you what happens to liars?” Her eyes began to well with tears. A car door slammed. A gun pressed against the boy's temple. His eyes widened.

“Touch her and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Harry snarled, pressing the gun even harder against him.

“I-I wasn’t, I swear, I swear,” he barely made out. Tears began pouring out of y/n’s eyes.

“Okay, so then tell me what you were gonna do, hm,” with his free hand, Harry grabbed y/n, pulling her behind him. She hid her face in his back and gripped his shirt in both hands, trying to focus on controlling her breathing.

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” he cried out.

“You swear, hm?” he let out a breathy laugh, “Why’d you wait for her, hm? Why’d you hide back there?” The boy’s mouth just opened and closed; Harry held back a laugh. “Say something, don’t be shy. You weren’t a minute ago.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right now if you let me, I swear, I promise!” He began to sob.

Harry just pressed harder, “that’s not what I asked, though, is it?” The boy shook his head as best as he could, “then answer my questions.”

“I just, I wanted to see her.”

Harry laughed, “so you wanted to see her, and you couldn't have done it in a normal manner? Couldn’t have asked to hang out rather than hiding in a fucking alley waiting for her when you knew she’d be most vulnerable, fucking scum,” he spat out, inching his face closer to his.

He sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry moved the gun from his temple, but not before he pressed a little bit harder. “Get in the car,” he muttered, keeping the gun pointed at him and ushering y/n with his back towards the backseat of a black Range Rover. She opened the door and jumped in before Harry did the same. He put the gun in his holster, secured under his jacket. He looked to y/n, who was shaking in the middle seat. “You okay?” She nodded, her face down, staring at her fingers picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “I’m sorry,” Harry apologized to her, anger surged through his veins and he wished he could get out and have the opportunity to pull the trigger pointed to the back of the boy's head. The car started and pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ll take you home, I’ll send someone to stay in the general area for your safety,” she looked up at him with watery eyes.

“Okay.”

“Can you give me an address, please,” he handed the phone to her, with trembling hands she took it and typed out her address. It was a six minute walk. “How were you planning to get home?” she handed back the phone.

“I walk.”

“For every shift?” she nodded. “I don’t like that,” he admitted.

“It’s only, like, five minutes,” she shrugged, still not making eye contact.

“Still don’t like it,” he ran his hands through his hair, sighing. She picked at her nails, chewing on her bottom lip.

The drive was short, two right turns and they arrived at her apartment complex. Harry opened the door and helped her out, following her up the stairs, standing close behind her as she unlocked the door.

“It’s a little messy, sorry,” she opened the door and led him in. He stood in the entryway, taking in the details of the decorations that filled the small space (it was a small studio apartment, big enough for Y/n, but far too small for Harry). Her bed wasn’t made, with halloween sheets and decorative pillows on the floor next to the bed, and the only chair in the apartment was covered in laundry.

“It’s not bad,” he looked down at her while she gazed at him. Harry loved the way she looked at him and hated that he loved it.

“Thank you for taking me home and ya know,” she smiled at him. He nodded.

“I’ll send someone to take you to work and bring you home for the next few days, need to make sure you’re safe,” he took a deep breath in, stepping closer to her, his hand reaching up to graze her cheek, resting it as he caressed the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. He looked down at her, a glint in his eyes she couldn’t make out. His gaze shifted to her lips, his hand stilled and she tilted her head up in the slightest.

His expression changed, he removed his hand, and he stepped back. “You’ll know when they’re here. Goodnight,” and with that, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Her cheek felt cold.

She missed his touch.

And that would be all she thought about for the rest of the night.

troubles always gonna find you baby, but so will i.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fics #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfic #harry one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry #harry styles fiction #Ethel cain

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finntheehumaneater · 5 months

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⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part 2)

(Part one) (part three)

(TW: brief mentions of blood and Self-Harm)

Vickie was late. Very late. And Steve wasn’t one to jump to conclusions (okay, maybe he was) but he was pretty sure she wasn’t coming. Robin was slouched over in the chair, her head in her hands, the cat—which Eddie had come over to tell her it’s name (Ozzy) earlier—was curled up in her lap. Steve knew she was crying by the way her shoulders shook slightly and her fingers were all curled up, but he didn’t say anything because there were more people in the shop now and he didn’t want to embarrass her.

“This is just great,” She muttered, her voice strangled. “This is just fucking great.”

“Language.” Steve said back, and she looked all fuzzy now, making him have to squint hard to see her. He was getting worse, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Her head moved up and he opened his eyes again, looking away.

“Steve —“

“I’ll be fine in a few minutes, just—give me a second.” He whispered, standing up and grabbing onto the chair. He needed another drink.

There was a line this time, and he bumped into a few people on the way there, which made his insides twist into knots, because fuck, maybe Robin was right? Maybe he did need glasses, and he’d just have to suck it up and deal with it.

When he finally got to the front, everything was all just shapes and colors, and his ears were ringing, and fuck he felt dizzy, his head spinning. Everything was quiet and fuzzy, and there was someone in front of him talking, but it was quiet and distorted.

He placed his hands on the counter and felt himself slump over slightly, his breaths feeling heavy in his chest, quick and hard. There was a hand on his shoulder and he felt himself flinch away, but it was like he was floating outside of his body, looking down at himself, and all he could see were hazy blurry shapes. It was like he wasn’t ever there.

Then the hand was back and he leaned into it, despite himself, and the thing stuttered slightly, before he felt another one at his elbow, and he was being shuffled forward. “Robin?” He muttered, trying to lift his head up fully, but he felt like falling to the floor and just fucking melting. Why was there always something wrong with him?

The person said something back, but their hands were rough and their fingers were long and thin, and some parts felt cold and hard against him, so it probably wasn’t Robin. He felt the back of his knees bump into a chair and he sat down blindly, his eyes squeezed shut so that he would stop nearly throwing up from the spinning colors and lights. He nearly fell over sideways, but the hands hauled him back up and into the chair properly, and then there was another set of hands on him, softer and more gripping then the first pair. That was probably Robin. He felt bad for the other person—the poor stranger who had to help him stumble over to his table while he put all of his weight on them and barely moved his feet.

After a few moments of peace, Robin’s hands wrapped around him and his face pressed against her shoulder, her hair in his face. It smelled like the conditioner he used. That’s what he got for leaving it in the shower instead of putting it back in the cabinet.

“You used my shampoo,” He mumbled, trying to push himself away from her, because she really shouldn’t have to be dealing with this on top of feeling shitty about Vickie not showing, but she held him firmly against her chest and scoffed out a laugh, her voice more clear and recognizable since she was practically speaking into his ear.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now, Dingus?” She muttered, her fingers twisting and tugging anxiously at the hair on the back of his neck, and it was probably ruining the look—since he had spent an hour doing it, even though it wasn’t his date—but it was fine. As long as it stopped her from pinching bruises into her arms, he could deal with having slightly messed up hair—even if that thought made his skin crawl.

It took a while, but eventually the world stopped spinning, and maybe it was Robin’s constant panicked rambling that was helping ground him, as she went on and on about how this wasn’t really that bad compared to the time that a friend from when she was younger passed out at a basketball court and lost her vision and hearing for two weeks, and she still needs glasses and hearing aids even now, and—

“Robin,” He said, pushing himself up and rubbing his eyes, the room finally holding still long enough for him to focus on her face for a moment or two before he closed his eyes again. “I’m okay now. And I’m sorry that happened to Kayla, but I'm okay. It won’t happen to me.”

He hated hearing her talk like that, because that’s how she rambled when she was scared, and it reminded him of those hours sitting alone in the dark and bleeding, asking her to just talk to me to try and stop her from sobbing, because she was going to get dehydrated soon and he didn’t know the next time they were going to get water. Or food. And she did talk—about everything and anything. She told him that her favorite color was yellow, and that she really liked sharks, and that maybe if they ever got out and he still wanted to be friends he could drive her to her favorite aquarium in Indy—because she also confessed that she had never gotten her license—so that she could show him her favorite tank with the stingrays in it.

They hadn’t gone yet, but they had tried a few times. It always ended with one of them freaking out—because they were still kids, and not even grown-ass people are good at dealing with traumatic memories. Okay, they were both 20, but still. That was young. To young to have gone through the shit that they had fucking been through. They both had scars, and neither of them liked to talk about it. Even after two years of being told that they would “heal” over time, the marks were still there, white-hot and dark and dripping blood down their arms and their chests and their legs.

Sometimes Steve would re-open them, but he didn’t do that very much anymore—not after Robin had found out why he still bled, knew all along but just didn’t know how to ask, and had told him to let her know when he got that bad again.

“—eve? Steven?” Robin was tapping his cheek gently with her fingers. “Did you OD over there?” She was trying to make a joke, but there was concern in her voice.

“I’m…no, no. Just thinking,” He said, laughing lightly, but there was no humor behind it. “I’m alright.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re not. Don’t lie to me,” She whispered, taking his hand in hers and squeezing gently, the lone ring on her middle finger cold against him. Was that what he had felt? But then why did the hands feel so rough? Calloused? Maybe it was all in his head. Everything seemed to be, these days.

“I am. I’m okay, Bobby,” He lies again, looking around once he can finally see everything normally again. His eyes meet Eddie’s over the counter, who looks concerned, but drops the face once he notices Steve looking at him—just giving him a shrug and a blank expression before turning to smile at the young woman at the front of the counter who’s ordering.

Steve doesn’t know why that stings in his chest, but it does—something sharp and aching as he watched Eddie flirt with the girl. So he does that with all of his customers. It wasn’t a special thing. Not that he wanted it to be, of course, he totally doesn’t care about this.

He and Robin just sit there for a while, her fingers tracing lines over his palm as she talks quietly about something that he’s not really comprehending fully. She had told him he should rest for a bit so that he won’t crash the car when they drive home. She still hasn’t gotten her license yet.

After a half-an-hour, Robin was still talking, and Steve wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep, even though it wasn’t really that late in the day yet, but then someone off to his side cleared his throat. Robin shut up and he looked over at—oh. Eddie.

“Hey.” Steve said, his voice breaking slightly from being quiet for so long, but he didn’t really feel embarrassed about it. He had a lot to be embarrassed about right now, really. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were tired and his skin was too pale with the scars on his arms poking out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered back, looking down. “I just…how are you feeling?” He looked hesitant, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Fine,” Steve muttered, words short and clipped—like he was angry, but he wasn’t. “I’m fine. Sorry you had to see that. I’m just—tired.”

“Thanks,” Eddie mutters, almost absentmindedly, and Steve felt himself flinch slightly, because fuck, that was meant to be polite and not an actually fucking apology. Did Eddie really mind that much? Maybe Steve really was just a fucking inconvenience.

Eddie’s head snapped up and his cheeks went even more red. “Shit, I—sorry, sorry. It’s fine. It’s okay, I—you’re pretty light, so it really wasn’t any trouble,” He was rambling now, and as upset as Steve was in the moment, it was kind of adorable (fuck, he really needed to stop thinking shit like that). “Again, I—I tend to not think before I speak, so. Yeah.” His voice got quiet at the end, and he did really look apologetic about it, so Steve straightened up and shrugged, giving him a short, small smile.

“It’s fine, man. Don’t worry about it. I get it.” He glanced over at Robin, confused about the comment on him being light. Robin paused for a moment, and then gave him a confused look back, which he took to mean, why are you looking at me?

Steve sighed and looked back at Eddie. “We should go,” and then shot a pointed look at Robin, who shot him a mocking one back, looking slightly disappointed—for what, he wasn’t sure—and then helped him up. He could walk fine on his own, now, but she still hovered near him as he grabbed her green knit sweater with the little yellow star in the front that she must have taken off earlier.

Robin snatched it back from him and cradled it to her chest. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

Steve only rolled his eyes and said a quick goodbye to Eddie before walking out of the building as fast as he could without tripping or bumping into something. He was fumbling with the car keys when he heard Eddie tell Robin that they were welcome back any time, to which she replied, “Oh, yes, I will be coming back for Ozzy.” Before patting Eddie’s shoulder and following after Steve.

Once they were both in the car, he started it and sighed.

Robin was glaring out the window for the entire ride home, and Steve had no idea why. He turned the music on, and she slapped his hand away, turning it off again.

“Why didn’t you get his number?” She snapped, now glaring at him instead of off into space.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Robs. Just let me focus on driving.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his hands shaking slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “I know you’re upset about Vickie, but you don’t have to take it out on me. We can watch that shark documentary you like when we get home and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbled, ducking her head down slightly as she tried to pull her sweater over herself around the seatbelt. He ended up stopping on the side of the road so that she could unbuckle and do it before they kept driving home.

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(If you want updates on this, and don’t want to be tagged, you can follow the tag “Radio Star by Finn” or just follow my blog ⭐️)

Hallo! Thanks for being patient with this bit!! I honestly don’t know how long I made you guys wait, because I have a horrible concept of time, but to me it feels like forever—and for you guys it might have only been a day or two. But regardless! IF YOU SAW ANY MISTAKES, NO YOU DIDN’T. I DON’T HAVE A BETA FOR THIS I JUST WRITE AND POST.

if you would like to be tagged, let me know in the comments! Also, feel free to also comment you thoughts, or send me an ask, because I really like answering things!

I hope you guys enjoyed this ⭐️

Taglist:

@strangersteddierthings @an-atlas-or-other @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff

if I missed anyone, please let me know and I’ll add you to the google doc with the taglist!!!!

also, people who I think might be interested (let me know if you don’t want me to tag you):

@absolutegremlin (I think you reglogged part one of this? Either way I meant to tag you in the first part lmao, sorry about that…)

@itsthestrangestthings (I think you followed me on your sideblog…? Maybe? But I didn’t want to tag that and have it not actually be you, so. Yeah.)